


Through A Glass Darkly

by ozhawk



Series: Shadows and Light [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Bruce Banner Is a Good Bro, Clint Feels, Clint falls in love, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Porn With Plot, Post-Avengers (2012), Smut, Tony Stark shits and giggles, Warning: Loki, Whump, don't blame me if you get sucked in, it came from a mad hangover dream, these things are caused by too much rum, this fic is really long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 20:47:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 65
Words: 93,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2442638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozhawk/pseuds/ozhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened after Hawkeye crashed through that window towards the end of the Battle Of New York? Maybe he met a tiny, angry structural engineer with a thing about air ducts...</p><p>Also includes lots of Clint smut, a Steve/Natasha romance, Loki being, well, just bloody Loki, and Thor being adorable. Plus Australians, reincarnation, dinosaurs, and King Arthur.</p><p>I just read back over that summary and realised how crazy it sounds. But they're all in there. Plus some Tony Stark obnoxiousness, just for shits and giggles.</p><p> </p><p>  <strong>Disclaimer: I own nothing except Jen and the Svendson family.</strong></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One - Crash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happened after Hawkeye ran out of arrows and crashed through the window? 
> 
> Maybe he met a tiny, angry, structural engineer with a thing about air ducts...  
>  
> 
> I messed a bit with the timeline, the battle lasts longer after Hawkeye goes off the roof, but otherwise this pretty much fits into and just after the movie. 
> 
> This fic was previously posted on FF.net on a daily post basis. As that took over 2 months I won’t be posting that slowly here – I’ll try and get a few chapters up each day.
> 
>    
> Music soundtrack for this chapter:
> 
> Pandemonium: Killing Joke
> 
>  Bring Me To Life: Evanescence feat. Amy Lee 
> 
> You Could Be Mine: Guns ‘n’ Roses
> 
> We Dance To A Different Disco: Short Stack
> 
>    
>  **Rated E for foul language AND explicit sexual content. Ye have been warned.**

_This is going to hurt. This is going to really hurt. Fuck, I hope that glass isn’t bulletproof, if it is I’m gonna bounce…_

**CRASH**

“Owwwww….” _Fuck, I’m winded. I can’t breathe. Oh, fuck, I think I broke some ribs_ …

“Are you all right, mate?”

Under the circumstances, that small voice was not at all what Clint Barton, aka Hawkeye, aka the World’s Greatest Marksman, expected to hear. Unable at that moment to catch his breath or speak, he turned his head in the direction the voice had spoken from and tried to take in the room.

It looked like a boardroom of some sort, probably not unexpected as it was on the top floor of the tower he had spent the last ten minutes shooting aliens and directing the battle off. What was unexpected was the girl under the boardroom table he was lying beside. At the moment all he could see was a pair of slender, attractive legs, with bare feet, stretched out to the side, emerging from the hem of a pale grey skirt suit which had probably started the day looking very smart and expensive but was now not in such hot state. Rather like himself.

“I think you’re winded, mate,” and the girl emerged in a fast crawl from under the table, shoved him over onto his side and pulled his knees up towards his chest. “Try and breathe.”

Clint blinked at her, astonished. She wasn’t very big, he thought, although the platinum grey suit was showing some rather nice upper body curvature in addition to those pretty legs. She had dark golden blonde hair escaping from a French pleat and electric blue eyes – for an instant he had a flashback and tried to scream.

“It’s OK, I don’t think they’re coming after you right now,” the girl said. He couldn’t place her accent. Or her age. Or anything about her. She seemed awfully comfortable with the fact that he had just crashed through the window in the middle of an alien battle.

“Who – you?” Clint managed to croak out.

“Jen,” she wasn’t training those blue eyes on him, but instead peering over his body and out through the smashed window. “Can you move? I think we’d better go. They’ll figure out you crashed that window soon enough.” She looked down at him and he realised she wasn’t as unaffected as he’d thought. There were tear tracks on her face. “Come on, archer, we need to go,” slim, small hands tugged at his arm. “Stay low. Can you crawl?”

 _I’ll fucking crawl out of here_. Somehow he made it to hands and knees and followed the girl – Jen. She crawled out through the door, and Clint realised he wasn’t that dead when he caught himself admiring her ass. As he made it through the door beside her he got a breath, and made to stand up.

“No!” Jen caught at his arm and pointed. They were in a corridor, the ends glassed, and there were flying aliens everywhere outside. If he’d stood they might have spotted him.

“Follow me.” She gave him a considering look, taking in the empty quiver on his back. “Are you out of ammo?”

“For the bow.” He’d discarded it back in the boardroom. But there were still two pistols strapped to his calves, and he had six magazines in various pockets. He might as well ditch the quiver now, actually, and he unclipped it and laid it by the wall, detaching the heads selector and stowing that in a cargo pocket. There were still some useful goodies in that even without arrows. Clint slipped one of his pistols and racked the slide. Jen held out a hand expectantly.

“No fucking way!”

“Bollocks to that,” she tried to grab the gun and he pushed her away gently.

“No. If you shoot at them they will come for you. You need to hide and let me handle this.”

An eyebrow arched. And then she said eloquently, “Fuck off.”

Clint couldn’t help it, he let out a laugh. “So what’s your plan?”

“I am so glad you decided to consult me on that, Robin Hood. FYI, there is one of those alien things searching the building. Right now it’s a few floors down from here working its way up. I was thinking the two of us might ambush him. But you can totes do it on your own if you want. I’ll hide in the air ducts and wait.”

“What?” Clint blinked, totally bemused. The only person who ever teased him about air ducts was Natasha. This girl didn’t even _know_ him. “Are you a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent?”

“Whatever the fuck that is, mate, no.”

“Then who…?”

She sighed exaggeratedly. “Me, structural engineer, know this building and its air ducts. Big brother is a soldier. Me know guns. Gimme.”

“No. But – show me the air ducts.”

“Oh, for fuck’s _sake_.” She glanced warily at the windows, and then crawled across the corridor and pushed open a door marked FIRE STAIRS. Just inside was an air duct cover.

Clint smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please comment! I love comments! They're the only rewards a fan fiction author gets...**


	2. Chapter 2 - In The Ducts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hiding in the ducts with a civilian - is this what the mighty Hawkeye is reduced to?  
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Radioactive: Imagine Dragons  
> Where The Streets Have No Name: U2  
> Don’t Cry: Guns ‘n’ Roses
> 
> Disclaimer: I only own Jen. Unfortunately. Because Jeremy Renner's ass, all right? Phew.

“Tell me more about the alien in the building?”

“It was searching,” Jen whispered a couple of minutes later. They had worked their way down a couple of floors, through a maze of air ducts she seemed to know like the back of her hand. Tiny and swift, she was the only person who had ever made Clint feel clumsy in this, what he considered his natural habitat. “I was on the way up to a meeting on the twenty-third floor. In the elevator. You saw the glass elevators on the outside of the building?”

He had, of course. But since they weren’t moving by the time Tony dropped him up top he’d figured that they had been shut down and the building evacuated. “Go on.”

“Well when some twit pulled the fire alarm the elevators stopped. I forced the doors but we were between floors so I couldn’t get out.”

“Why didn’t you go out through the roof hatch?” Clint asked logically.

“Because I am five foot four in five inch heels, dickhead, and there is no fucking way I can climb to the top of a nine-foot glass lift without help or tools!” She glared at him, and he conceded the point with a nod. It explained her bare feet too. Five inch heels would have been a major liability.

“So I got a birds’ eye view of the battle on the ground. Saw Iron Man put you up on the roof. Couldn’t see much of you out there but I could see the arrows and aliens falling out of the sky.” She was giving him a look of grudging respect, he could make out in the dim greenish light in the air duct.

“Anyway, so a few minutes ago you shot something big and it crashed the other side of the building. The elevator kind of jerked and dropped a few feet. I thought – I thought it was going to crash all the way.” She kind of gulped.

Clint found himself suddenly feeling very sorry for Jen. She had been totally helpless, trapped in a glass box, watching that awful battle, and then suddenly thinking she was going to be smashed to her death.

“Anyway,” she continued after a moment, steadying her voice, “the elevator dropped just enough that I could force the door on the next level down and jump out. Found myself on the nineteenth floor, headed for the stairs and started running down. Planning to hide in the basement like I think everyone else in the building had. Except,” she gulped, and he saw the tears begin to trickle from the corners of her eyes again, “I was running down and I heard this noise – I looked over the rail and this _thing_ came out of the basement… it was tracking bloody footprints as it started up the stairs. I froze, just – couldn’t move, and after a couple of minutes I realised it was systematically searching all the floors. So I waited for it to go in the third floor and I ran up to the very top and hid. I guess I was hoping it would get bored or be called away before it got that far.”

Clint didn’t know what to say. How did he tell her that all her co-workers were dead and that unless his colleagues could pull off some kind of fucking miracle, they were going to die too? But the look in her blue eyes as she stared at him told him that she didn’t need telling. She knew. She’d been looking death in the eye ever since she watched the portal open and the aliens come pouring through, from the inside of that glass elevator.

“I can’t promise to get you out of this,” he said very softly in the end. “But I will kill that one for you.”

Jen gave him a very small smile and he thought that she would probably be very beautiful if she ever smiled properly. “Thank you, Robin Hood.”

“Call me Hawk.” He heard it, then, and pressed his finger to his lips. She froze, huddled, and he looked down through the air vent he had selected, the one that gave an excellent view of the enclosed room in the middle of the nineteenth floor. It had originally been a server control room, Jen said, but all the servers were now in the basement. It was perfect for his purposes because it was one of the few rooms in the damn glass-walled building which could have no witnesses from outside.

The alien came in through the door, looking around the room, stalking across with its weird stiff-legged gait to look behind the furniture. It never had time to turn around as Hawk dropped through the vent and stabbed a knife straight into the spine. He’d watched Natasha kill one of the flying things this way just minutes ago. Sure enough, the alien keeled over dead without a sound. Clint pulled his knife back out and wiped the green blood off on a nearby office chair.

“Hawk?” He looked up to the small, pale face peering through the vent hole.

“Come on down.”

“Er – I usually enter through low level vents – I’ll just go back and around…”

“Jen, come down. I’ll catch you.” He sheathed the knife and his gun and held out his hands. She hesitated for a moment, and then slipped her legs over the edge of the vent, lowered herself to hang by her hands and dropped.

She couldn’t weigh more than ninety pounds. He caught her with ease and set her on her feet. Bloody hell, she really was tiny. All right, his combat boots probably added an inch to his normal five foot ten, but she didn’t even reach his shoulder.

“Why are we leaving the ducts again?” She glanced longingly upwards, and Clint smiled. Was this actually his perfect woman? He had never met anyone other than himself who preferred air ducts to open space.

“I need to see what’s going on. My earpiece blew out just before I jumped in the window, so I’m out of comms. I need to see if I can help out there.”

She looked doubtfully at the pistols he had drawn after putting her down, but then seemed to think twice. Maybe she remembered seeing Natasha doing a bloody good job using identical guns.

“And why am I coming with you?”

“Because if anyone comes looking for buddy back there,” Clint nodded to the dead alien body, “and sees the big fucking hole in the ceiling, it’s going to be pretty obvious to start looking in the ducts.”

Jen said nothing. She just followed him. They slipped out into the corridor, and Clint found himself looking at the elevator bank. His eyes tracked over the one set of forced steel doors, and up to the tiny gap at the top through which daylight could be seen.

“You came through _that_?” He looked back at Jen. He didn’t think even Natasha could have slipped through that space. It couldn’t be more than nine inches.

“Given a choice between getting though and falling to my death, I picked the tight squeeze,” she deadpanned back, though he saw her own eyes widen at the size of the gap. She pressed a hand to her breasts. Yes, that must have been bloody uncomfortable. Surely she would have bruises.

Clint moved on, staying close to the wall, going to the end of the corridor. He crouched low as he got there and looked both ways: another corridor.

“Go in there,” Jen pointed opposite to an office door. “There will be a window: this is the north side of the building. You’ll be able to see Stark Tower and the – the whatever the fuck it is in the sky.”

Hawk nodded. He eased the door open and they both entered the room on their knees, crawling under the desk and crouching below the windowsill. They were both crouching there, peering through the window, when they saw four more huge whale-ships come through the portal.

“Oh, shit,” Clint whispered. It had taken Hulk, Thor and Iron Man together to stop the last two. Four more at once – it was over. He could feel Jen beginning to tremble by his side, hear her breathing start to hitch.

“I – I don’t want to die,” she whispered, and he turned to her, his eyes filled with pity.

“Jen…” Even on their knees, she was tiny compared to him. For a long moment they stared at each other, both knowing that death would come soon.


	3. Chapter 3 - Die Today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine.
> 
> This one's a short chapter but one of my favourites! Please comment and let me know how I’m going so far!
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Right Now: Van Halen  
> Holy Grail: Hunters And Collectors  
> I Won’t Give Up: Jason Mraz  
> (And yes, I do have eclectic music taste. Feel free to ignore my recommendations. Or you can cue them up and listen while you read. Up to you!)

_Jen_

Well, if she had to die today, at least it wasn’t going to be alone in a glass box. The man who called himself Hawk gazed down at Jen, and she stared up at him, fighting not to hyperventilate, cursing her inappropriate brain for its dumbass psycho internal commentary which had started up the second he crashed through the boardroom window and landed literally at her feet.

 _Fuck, look at those arms. Have you ever seen_ anything _like those arms? His biceps are bigger than my head._

_Damn, he has a really hot body. Whoever designed that suit for him needs an award._

_He has the most amazing hands. Long-fingered and amazingly strong. What I wouldn’t give for those hands on me…_

_What a gorgeous face. All sharp angles and cheekbones._ Jen itched to draw him. _And those beautiful eyes, blue-green with bright golden flecks. And that mouth – he has an incredibly succulent mouth for a man._

 _Oh, fuck it. If I’m gonna die, I’m gonna find out what he tastes like first._ Jen reached up, put her arms around Hawk’s neck, and plastered her mouth to his.

He was _delicious_. He smelled like sweat and gunpowder and alien blood and God only knew what, and his mouth tasted like heaven. Those huge arms slid around her after a brief moment of surprise where he stiffened, and then he was kissing her back, a soft moan escaping the back of his throat.

Jen clung to those massive shoulders, exploring his mouth with a fervour he was returning with interest. One big hand slid slowly down her spine onto her butt, and she arched into him, feeling his strange body armour pressing hard against her bruised breasts and not caring in the slightest. For a few moments she forgot that they would die soon, either by aliens coming down through the building looking for Hawk after his window crash, or from the building being smashed to smithereens by one of the whale-ships.

_Hawk_

The kiss had been totally unexpected. Perhaps it shouldn’t have been – after all, Clint knew that when asked what they would do if told the world would end in ten minutes, plenty of people said they would grab the nearest attractive stranger and make out.

It sure as hell wasn’t the world’s worst idea. The only thing childlike about Jen was her height, he decided, because she sure as hell kissed like a woman, and the soft body pressed against him was very much adult. She tasted like – like summer. Clint wasn’t even aware of his arms tightening around her, of the needy moan surging from his throat, as he kissed her back, searching her mouth, nipping at her full lower lip. One of his hands slid down her back, over her bottom, down to the hem of her skirt, and he caressed gently at the soft skin of her thigh. She shuddered against him, and suddenly he was aware that he could feel wetness on his cheek, that her breathing was harsh and erratic.

“Jen,” he pulled back, looking down at her, and something inside him twisted at the trails of tears running down her face. “Oh, Jen – I’ve got you,” he gathered her even closer, pressing her face into his neck. “I’ve got you.” He looked out of the window, his face grim – _what the fuck was that_?

And so Clint Barton watched in astonishment as the bar of light reaching up into the roiling clouds shut down on itself, the portal closing, aliens dropping where they fought, Iron Man falling – falling – and Hulk snatching him from the sky. He didn’t see where Hulk landed, it was not in his line of sight, but he didn’t doubt that Tony Stark would have survived. It was time Hawkeye went back into action, went to find the rest of his team – check on Natasha, find out where that bastard Loki was and kill him if he wasn’t already dead – but somehow, he stayed kneeling on the floor in the quiet office, holding a sobbing girl close to his heart.

“Jen,” he said softly into her hair. “Jen – it’s over. Look. They shut down the portal.”

“Wh – what?” she hiccupped, pulling her face back from his neck, though she still clutched at him, and his arms remained tight around her.

“Look.”

Jen turned her head and stared down at the street. But all Clint could look at was her.

 


	4. Chapter Four - Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the portal closes, there's still work to do - for everyone.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Amazing: Aerosmith  
> You And Me: Lifehouse  
> Leave The Pieces: The Wreckers
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

“I have to go. I have to find my friends, help – there will be people trapped in the rubble.”

Hawk’s low, soft voice brought Jen from her reverie. She nodded absently. “Me too.”

“No, you need to get out of here!” His arms tightened around her. “You need to get to safety.”

 _He was going to be difficult_. Jen swallowed the argument that rose to her lips, somehow guessing that if she argued he’d probably neglect his own duties to take her to safety. Instead she nodded submissively.

They stood, together, and somehow one of her small hands was in his. She looked up at him, but he wasn’t looking at her, was instead checking his weapons. Jen blinked in surprise as he suddenly held out one of his pistols to her, butt first.

“What?”

“You said you knew guns. Take it. The city will be dangerous, now – rioting – I wouldn’t want you to fight aliens but I can’t leave you defenceless. Take it. You’ve got fifteen rounds, fourteen in the clip and one loaded.”

Part of Jen wanted to smack him for trusting her with a gun _now_. The other part wanted to swoon at his gentlemanly concern. She said nothing, though, just accepted the gun, checking it over with a simple efficiency that make Clint nod approvingly. She _did_ know guns; even though the Walther PPK he preferred was way too big for her tiny hand, she’d be able to use it in a pinch.

They left the office together, and just coming in through the fire door they found half a dozen of the aliens. They were just lying, collapsed in a row like dominos. Hawk and Jen stepped over them carefully. Coming down the stairs were a bunch more. They had been coming down from the top, Clint was sure, looking for him.

“I need to fetch my bow,” he decided, and Jen didn’t intend to stay there alone, so they went back up to the twenty-third floor together and Clint collected his bow and the empty quiver. He might be able to find an arrow or two stuck in a carcass out there, and if not, well, Stark Tower was only a few blocks away. If JARVIS was still active he could have a full quiver in his hands ten seconds after walking in the doors.

It was a long way down, jogging down the stairs. Clint’s combat boots made scarcely more sound than Jen’s bare feet as she followed him. At the ground floor, he gestured her to stay back while he opened the door, but she shook her head, her eyes turned resolutely away from the lower floor and the bloody alien tracks on the stairs.

Out on the street, there was shattered glass everywhere. Clint started forward, and then remembered Jen’s bare feet. He turned to look at her. “I’ll take you to the police perimeter…”

“Fuck off, mate,” she grumbled. “Just take me across the street.” She pointed, and he saw that there was a shoe store there, windows smashed open.

Clint grinned. “All right.” He turned to Jen and scooped her in his arms. She stiffened for a moment and then relaxed, putting her own arms around his neck. His pistol in her hand rattled against his armour for a moment before she held it away.

She was so light Clint barely registered her weight in his arms. He strode across the street carrying her, stepping over the smashed window-sill into the shoe store, carrying her right to the back, well away from the shattered glass littering the floor.

“There,” Jen pointed at a stack of boxes of athletics shoes, and he nodded, approving her choice. Waited while she found a pair in a very tiny size and pulled them on. She grabbed a shoulder bag from a rack and put the pistol in it, slinging it across her shoulder, though her hand remained on the butt of the gun.

“I really need to go,” Clint said. He could hear a voice that sounded suspiciously like Steve Rogers yelling for him.

“Thank you, for everything,” Jen said. They stood there facing in each other in the dim light, neither speaking for a moment.

“I _will_ find you,” Clint said roughly. One big hand came up and caressed her face, his thumb stroking over her cheekbone, down to brush against her lower lip. “Stay safe, Jen.”

She licked her lips, and he groaned softly, bent his head and kissed her. _Once more_ , he told himself. _Just once more_ _– yes, she really does taste like summer…_

“HAWKEYE!” Rogers’ voice was close. Clint sighed, pulled back from Jen, and was gone in a dead run, leaping the windowsill out onto the street and landing in a crunch of broken glass.

“Cap, I’m here!”

*   *   *

Jen waited until she heard the two men run off down the street together before cautiously heading towards the window. The building where she worked was two blocks west of here; she was sure the other two had headed north for Stark Tower and wouldn’t see her. So she stepped out on the street and headed west.

In the lobby of her building, she found her co-workers marshalling. Most of them had been hiding in air-ducts, just as she had expected, and they were already arming themselves with tools to get out and start looking for survivors. They fell on her with shouts of relief, and two of the guys insisted on walking her up to her office so she could get changed into her working clothes.

Jen left the purloined shoes – and the bag with Hawk’s gun in it – locked in her desk. She changed into her cargo pants and pocketed shirt, dragged a cap on over her head and dumped the despised, and now wrecked, skirt suit in the bin. She hated it when her bosses sent her along to meetings just because they wanted a female presence to make the firm look good. She was an engineer, not a PR person. She spent her life crawling through ducts and fixing machinery, and devising ways to make things work better.

Putting on her work boots, she grabbed her tool bag and left the office at a run, confident that even if she ran into Hawk now, he’d never recognise her.

Her team were relieved to see her, but that didn’t stop them nagging her about where she’d been as they methodically searched the next building to theirs for survivors. In the end she told them she’d been trapped in a glass elevator for a while and seen a lot of the battle, but eventually managed to get out and take refuge in the ducts until it was all over.

Somehow, telling them about Hawk would have been wrong. Those few moments were hers. Hers, and his. If he ever did find her – though she doubted he’d bother – maybe then she would tell them then. Until then, she would hold her peace.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5 - Be Happy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the battle, Clint finds himself at a loose end.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Infected: Bad Religion  
> Slither: Velvet Revolver  
> Long Day: Matchbox Twenty
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

Night was falling as Clint walked down the street, Bruce Banner at his side. The Army had been called in and teams of engineers were sifting the rubble, rescuing the trapped and injured. S.H.I.E.L.D. agents were gathering up every bit of the alien/robot tech they could get their hands on. Thor had taken Loki into custody and he and Iron Man had taken the rebel God back to a S.H.I.E.L.D. holding facility – another one Director Fury had built to hold the Hulk, but this one wasn’t intended to fly.

Natasha was safe. She had hugged Clint with great relief when she saw he was all right – he checked the cut on her head with concern, but it was just a flesh wound. Scalp wounds always bled like hell. It was Rogers who had freaked out, sweeping the Russian woman up in his arms and carrying her off to a medical facility.

It had amused Clint no end that Natasha had protested at first, and then when Rogers gave her a look, she had subsided. Instead, she put her arms around his neck, and smiled. A strange little smile Clint had never before seen on his friend’s face. It looked almost – content?

So that left him and Banner. Once Banner had de-Hulked, they found Banner some fresh clothes – from Tony Stark’s wardrobe – and set off to see who they could help. But no one seemed to need shooting or punching, so they were reduced to wandering around and getting in people’s way. Fury had twice told them to come in, he would send Agent Hill with a quinjet for them, but they both refused.

Clint had the nasty feeling Banner was just sticking around in case he went all Loki-possessed again, but after he had snapped irritably at Stark about it, and Natasha defended him, they all shut up.

“Are you all right about it?” Banner asked suddenly.

“About what?” Clint glanced at him. _Not more Loki-shit, please._

“The Black Widow, and the Captain. He’s been looking at her like that since – well, ever since she came on board.”

“Sure,” Clint shrugged.

“I thought, you and her…”

“Oh.” _Why did people always think that?_ “Look, a long time ago, we were involved. Sort of. It was part of her job to seduce me. And hey,” he grinned reminiscently, “she’s very good at it. But it was never love. We were on opposite sides then, and for a while after. We ended up on the same side, and yeah, there’ve been times over the years – but she’s more like my sister, these days. And seriously, if you’re gonna pick any guy in the world to date your sister, would you pick anyone BUT Captain America?”

“If I had a sister, no,” Banner agreed, with a grin. “So you’re cool with it?”

“I’m more than cool with it. If Natasha’s happy, I’m over the moon for her.”

“Now I _know_ you’re still possessed by Loki. Any normal red-blooded guy would be pissed at losing a woman like Natasha, wouldn’t he?”

Banner’s voice was teasing, and Clint found himself laughing. He patted the other man on the shoulder.

“I’m as red-blooded as the next guy, though I’m probably not all that normal, Banner. But I’m also not possessed by Loki. I’ll fucking put an arrow though that bastard’s eye next time he tries his freaky mumbo-jumbo shit on me. And Natasha was never mine to lose. I’m fine with it.”

They walked on into the gathering twilight. A group of civilians were standing in front of the partially collapsed, tilting skyscraper that formed the next block, and Clint was going to go over to clear them away, but then he realised that they wore tool belts and work clothes and seemed to be earnestly discussing with some Army guys the safest way into the building. _Structural engineers._

Something pricked at Clint’s mind, and he turned his head as he and Banner walked on. Had he really just seen a very small figure sidling through the group, moving surreptitiously away from him?

“Hawkeye?” Banner called, and he realised he had stopped walking. “What is it?”

The light was bad, and getting worse. There wasn’t a street light intact within ten blocks, the buildings were without power, and the Army hadn’t yet brought in enough lights and generators to brighten the scene. But the Hawk was used to working in low light, at a distance. He stood still, his focus narrowing on the group of engineers. There had been twelve of them, and six Army guys. The tactical part of his brain had tallied them unconsciously. But now there were eleven.

“Hawkeye?”

“Fuck!” he started to run as the group headed towards the building’s doors. There _were_ twelve of them, and the odds of there being another four-foot-eleven, female structural engineer, even in a city the size of Manhattan, were pretty fucking low.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Love to hear from reviewers, so please leave me a comment!**


	6. Chapter 6 - Run!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint finds Jen - temporarily...
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Planets: Short Stack  
> This Is Who I Am: Vanessa Amorosi  
> Get You Out Of Here: Busby Marou
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

 

“Oh, shit. Guys, I just gotta deal with this.”

He’d spotted her. He really did have eyes like a hawk, and he was coming in a dead-on run, his eyes locked onto his target.

“That’s the archer guy!” Jen heard behind her as she stepped out of the group, hurrying to intercept Hawk far enough from her colleagues that, just possibly, they might not hear every word. They stayed where they were, staring respectfully at Hawk as he ran the last few strides and skidded to a stop in front of her.

“What the fuck are you doing here, I told you to get to safety! You said you were going to the police perimeter!” Hawk resisted the urge to grab Jen’s shoulders and shake her. She looked totally different in scruffy black cargo pants, a loaded toolbelt and a tan, pocketed engineer’s shirt, her hair partly covered by a scruffy red ball cap with some sort of white bird logo on the front. Heavy boots raised her a scant inch closer to his own height, but she was still childlike compared to the meaty engineers and soldiers who had been surrounding her a few moments earlier.

“No I didn’t,” she said reasonably.

“What?” he scanned back through their last words briefly, and blinked. No, she hadn’t said that she would leave, had she? He’d said he would take her to the police perimeter, and she’d told him to fuck off and pointed to the shoe store. He hadn’t pushed the point.

“I thought…” he ran down. “I told you to stay safe,” he regrouped, conscious that Banner had now come up beside him and was watching the conversation with interest. “ _That_ ,” he pointed with a shaking finger at the broken skyscraper dangling above them, “is not in _anyone’s_ definition of safe!”

Her blue eyes narrowed at him and she jabbed a finger at his chest. “Fuck. Off. I don’t follow your orders, mate. You might have saved my life, but I saved your ass too, getting you out of that boardroom and showing you the ducts. I don’t bloody owe you _anything_.”

Jen turned and looked up at the building. “In there are people who are trapped, frightened, wounded, maybe dying. In there is _my_ job. Getting them out safely. I am the smallest and lightest person on my team by a long way. I can get in, and out, where no one else can.” She turned back to him, looking at the refilled quiver on his back. “You – go do _your_ job. Go and shoot something.”

Clint never knew what he would have said then, because the building above them suddenly made the most horrific noise, a tortured scream of metal and concrete, the ground shook, the tower started tilting further and one of the other engineers screamed “Run!”

They ran for their lives. Jen was sprinting at Clint’s side, he thought about picking her up, she could never match his speed, but really she was doing OK, and picking her up might slow them both down – fuck, he wished he had something like Rogers’ shield, but all he could do was shield her with his own body as the world came crashing down…

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Oh I do like a good cliffhanger. Hopefully you don't hate me for it - let me know...**


	7. Chapter 7 - Find Her!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint wakes up and the team go for shawarma.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Millenium: Killing Joke  
> All That You Are: Goo Goo Dolls  
> Lightning Crashes: Live
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

Clint woke up in sickbay on the helicarrier, a massive lump on the back of his head. Banner brought him in after a chunk of concrete from the collapsing skyscraper bounced off his skull, the medics told him. He was lucky to be alive.

“Seriously, Barton, you survive being possessed by an Asgardian Norse God, fighting aliens, jumping off a building, and then nearly get your ass killed by a skyscraper falling on you?” Tony Stark laughed at him as they sat in the shawarma joint. It was the day after the battle. Everything was filthy. Dusty. New York looked like Clint remembered Basra, the last time he was there. But already, people were picking themselves up. Rebuilding their lives. Opening their businesses. Cooking shawarma.

Clint liked shawarma. He was one of the few tucking in, he’d eaten it many times in the Middle East and developed a taste for the spicy meat. Stark, who had wanted to come here, ate one stuffed lavosh and declared himself satisfied. Thor, who apparently never turned down food, had decided he liked it and was, for once, not talking as he ate. Natasha had picked a bit, muttered something about Mosul and was sitting staring into Captain America’s eyes, as he gazed back, entranced. Banner was actually asleep in his chair, Clint thought, head tipped back, slight whistling sounds escaping his nostrils.

Clint shrugged. “What can I say. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“What the fuck were you doing wandering around in front of a collapsing skyscraper anyway?” Stark pressed.

Clint shrugged again, and to his surprise Banner spoke up. Not asleep after all, apparently.

“Saving a pretty girl.”

“What?” Even Thor stopped chewing. Clint squirmed uncomfortably in his seat as five pairs of eyes trained themselves on him with interest.

“It wasn’t like that…”

“It was _exactly_ like that, Barton. I don’t know what the fuck was going on there, but if you hadn’t run over and delayed her and her team going into the building, they would all have died when it came down.”

Right up until that moment, that possibility – probability – _certainty_ – hadn’t occurred to him. Clint froze, thinking sickly back. _Banner was right_. They _had_ been heading in when he ran over after spotting Jen, and her team had stopped to wait for her.

“Plus,” Banner continued, grinning, “then he gallantly threw himself on top of her as a human shield when the tower fell.”

“Oho!” Stark started laughing. “And she was pretty, you say, Bruce? I’d have thrown myself on top too, Barton – did you cop a feel while you were at it? I hope you got her number…”

Natasha was actually giggling at Clint’s discomforted expression. Steve was smiling, but not unkindly, and Thor reached over and clapped him on the shoulder with a massive hand.

“Well done, Eyes of Hawk! Protecting a lady is a worthy act!”

Almost knocked off his chair by Thor’s friendly smack, Clint took a moment to try and compose his face. “Was she all right, Bruce?” he said eventually, knowing that the others would mock him for it, but unable to stop himself from waiting until he could get the scientist alone to ask.

“Not a scratch,” Banner grinned at him. “Except I think you squashed her a bit. She was rather small. Your body armour – and the arms you threw protectively around her – shielded her from everything. She was screaming at me to get you off her – got quite a vocabulary, that chick – and when I pulled you off she wriggled out and started yelling at you to wake up and not to fucking die on her this time.”

“ _This_ time?” Stark couldn’t resist. “Barton, you’ve been holding out on us!” He leaned forward eagerly in his seat. “Tell. Or we’ll get Thor to hold you down and Natasha can torture it out of you.”

“Pleeease fuck off,” Clint groaned, covering his face with his hands.

“You haven’t heard the best bit,” Banner said, “while we were loading him onto the stretcher, she’d been running around checking on her friends – they were all fine, by the way, Clint, you were the worst injured – she came back and gave him a lovely kiss. I asked her if she wanted to come with us on the medivac flight but she said she still had work to do.”

“Thor, can you please hit me on the head, I’d really rather be unconscious,” Clint said, his face still buried in his hands, his cheeks burning. Although – Jen had come back? She’d kissed him as he lay on the stretcher? There was an unfamiliar warm feeling in his chest.

“No, Thor, he was joking!” Rogers grabbed Thor’s arm just before he obliged. “He is embarrassed because Tony and Bruce are teasing him.” Of them all, Rogers was the best at explaining Earth customs to Thor in terms the Asgardian understood. Those that _Rogers_ understood, anyway.

“Ah,” Thor laughed, took a swig of his water and patted Clint’s shoulder again. “Eyes of Hawk, be not sheepish. It sounds as though you have made a good first impression on the fair maiden, taking an injury in order to save her life. You should go now and ‘phone’ her?” He looked at Rogers. “Is that the right term?”

“I can’t phone her,” Clint muttered into his hands. “I didn’t get her number. Or her full name.”

“I bet we can take care of that!” Stark dropped his whiz-bang transparent phone on the table. “JARVIS, Barton here needs to find a woman.”

“Shall I set him up a profile on Tinder, sir?” the smooth English-sounding voice of the AI said.

Natasha went off into gales of laughter, as did Banner. Thor and Rogers were of course completely bemused. Stark snickered, and Clint found himself laughing too. “No, thanks all the same, JARVIS. It’s a _particular_ girl. I met her during the battle.”

“I see, Mr Barton. If you would provide any details you can recall for me, in that case, I will commence a database search.”

Clint looked around. He would really rather have done this in privacy, but they were all watching him expectantly, although Thor had started eating again. “Her name is Jen,” he said hesitantly after a moment. “She’s a structural engineer. She worked at that building I was shooting off. Three blocks south of Stark Tower.”

“I have that address, sir.” There was a miniscule pause, and then JARVIS said “Insufficient data. That building does not host any engineering firms. Nor are there any structural engineers listed among staff. There were three Jennifers and one Jennie on staff but they were two secretaries, one legal aide and one catering manager.” Four photos flashed on the screen, but Clint shook his head.

“None of them. Find her, JARVIS!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I love comments and reviews so please keep ‘em coming!**


	8. Chapter 8 - Spill

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nat gets Clint drunk and he confesses all.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Khe Sanh: Cold Chisel  
> If You’re Gone: Matchbox Twenty  
> Heart Of Soul: The Cult  
> Angel: Sarah McLachlan
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

“Find her, JARVIS!” Clint’s words hung in the room, and he realised after a moment that he had spoken much more emphatically, had revealed far more of his feelings, than he had intended. Natasha was giving him a look filled with understanding and sympathy. Stark was grinning like an idiot, no doubt storing Clint’s emotional vulnerability up for use as ammunition later, and the other men’s expressions ranged from slightly sheepish (Banner) to thoroughly confused (Thor).

“Insufficient data, Mr Barton,” was all JARVIS said, and then a moment later, “Please tell me what else you recollect about this ‘Jen’, sir.”

“She had an accent,” Bruce said then. “She wasn’t American.”

“Well, you’ve been all over the world shooting people, Legolas,” Stark said, “where was her accent from?”

“That’s just it – wherever that accent came from, I’ve never been there,” Clint said, ignoring the nickname. “Although – for some reason I keep flashing back to Tora Bora.”

Natasha startled, as did Tony. “Afghanistan?”

“You were there, Tasha. She wasn’t Afghan or anything like it, but for some reason when I think of her saying ‘You all right, mate?’ I’m getting Tora Bora…”

“If she said ‘mate’ she’s Australian,” Natasha said. “Don’t you remember? Those Aussie sappers who were down there in the caves with us. They called everyone ‘mate’ even when everything was falling in on our heads.”

“And she was really short,” Bruce said. “Really, like five foot tall short.”

“Four eleven in bare feet,” Clint muttered.

“That’s got to be enough for you, JARVIS,” Tony said, “midget female Australian structural engineer working in Manhattan, name of Jen. Can’t be too many… I never knew you two were at Tora Bora.”

“We were looking for you,” Clint said, “we kind of, uh, recruited a squad of Australian special forces guys to help us along the way. They were _very_ good with explosives. You escaped before we found you, though.”

“Genevieve Svendson,” JARVIS announced just as Clint finished speaking, and a passport snap appeared on the phone, then lifted up out of the screen and became a 3D holo. Jen’s face stared back at Clint, her bright blue eyes seeming to stare at him from an unsmiling face, and he found his throat suddenly dry.

“That’s her,” it was Banner who identified her, because Clint couldn’t find his voice.

“Hooray! This calls for a celebratory drink. Let’s find a bar!” It was Stark, of course. The man couldn’t resist a party.

Clint agreed solely because it got them out of the shawarma joint and stopped people demanding JARVIS supply more details about Jen. _Genevieve_. He tried the name out silently in his head.

Five beers later, Clint remembered, rather fuzzily, that you shouldn’t drink if you might have concussion. The egg on the back of his head wasn’t throbbing any more, though, so he couldn’t be concussed, could he? He leaned bonelessly back on the couch – seriously, who but Tony Stark would know a bar that had couches? – and Natasha smiled and put her feet in his lap.

“Oh, of course you’re suckering me into giving you a foot rub,” Clint sighed. Natasha was sitting on the couch opposite, with Steve, not quite leaning into him. Steve’s arm was along the top of the couch, not quite touching her shoulders, and as Clint pulled Natasha’s boots off and started massaging her feet, he saw Captain America give him an uncertain, jealous stare.

 _Better just get this out in the open or he’s never gonna trust me_. “Tasha’s like a sister to me, Steve,” he said aloud. “We’re kinda touchy-feely but that’s all there is to it.”

“Oh,” Steve said, blushing and very carefully not looking at the redhead sitting beside him. Natasha smiled, poured herself another shot of vodka and tossed it back, leaning back just a little closer to him.

“And a tip for you? If she says in the morning that she’d drunk too much vodka and doesn’t remember anything? She’s lying. She remembers _everything_. Although she remembers things rather differently to reality sometimes. I’m still trying to figure out in what way yesterday’s cluster-fuck was _anything_ like Budapest.”

Natasha smiled wider. Steve was blushing even redder. Of course, _he_ couldn’t get drunk to loosen up. Banner didn’t drink either, for fear of letting the Other Guy loose, but he was currently over by the bar watching as Thor took Tony on in some strange Asgardian drinking game. The rest of the place was empty, Stark had paid them all to fuck off, apart from one fascinated bartender.

Steve obviously tried to change the subject from _his_ non-existent sex life. “So tell us more about this Australian dame you met during the battle, Clint. How exactly do you meet a girl _during_ a battle? Before, that happens; after, totally normal. During? That’s a _little_ strange.”

Well, if he was going to spill to anyone it might as well be these two. Natasha would never share his secrets – he knew far too many of hers – and Rogers was way too honourable.

“I ran out of arrows and had to evacuate the roof,” he began. “When I swung in through the window I hit badly on the floor and winded myself – thought I might have cracked ribs too but the medics say they’re just bruised. And this little voice said ‘Are you all right, mate?’ and I saw a pair of gorgeous legs under the boardroom table…”

He told them everything. Right up until the moment that he and Jen had seen the whale-ships come through the portal, and she had put her arms around his neck and kissed him. He faltered then, unable to share that, and Natasha looked at him with wise, knowing eyes and nodded, letting him know that she had understood there were some things he could not make himself say.

Clint cleared his throat and carried on, just saying that Jen had cried, believing she was going to die, and he put his arms around her to comfort her. And that was when he had seen the portal close and the battle end.

Steve was nodding sympathetically. “That was a kind thing you did, to comfort her, Clint. She sounds – interesting.”

“She’s – yeah, interesting. Anyway, after that we went out and I told her to get beyond the police perimeter, but she made me take her into this shoe store so she could get some shoes…”

Natasha laughed at that, and even harder when Clint explained that Jen had chosen running shoes. And then he had left her, thinking that he’d probably never see her again, believing, because it had kept him sane to believe, that she would be safe. Until a few hours later he had seen her about to go into a teetering, broken skyscraper to hunt for possible survivors.

“She saw me first, I think,” another beer had magically appeared in front of him, and Clint scooped it up and took a slug. “She tried to hide but I saw her. I ran over and demanded to know why she hadn’t left…”

“A brave woman,” Steve commented, after Clint explained how Jen had fully intended to go into the building and get into small spaces no one else could have. “She could have died.”

“She _would_ have died,” Clint corrected, and to his utter horror realised that there were tears in his eyes. “The building crashed while I was arguing with her. If I hadn’t seen her and run over she would have been inside…” his voice cracked, and a moment later Natasha was sitting on one side of him and Steve on the other, both hugging him, Natasha telling him in Russian that it was all okay, that he was a hero and he’d saved Jen’s life, several times.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So Nat's making a move on Steve and Clint's drunk and a little bit broken - what do you guys think so far?**


	9. Chapter 9 - Whosedottir?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pepper arrives on the scene to discover a crowd of rolling drunks... 
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> This Ain’t A Scene, It’s An Arms Race: Fall Out Boy  
> Gotta Get Thru’ This: Daniel Bedingfield  
> How Long: The Eagles
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

“I do not understand, Metal Man,” Thor roared. “This Lady Jen with whom Eyes of Hawk is entranced. Your JARVIS friend said that her name was Svend _son_. But she is a woman! She is no man’s son! She should be someone’s _dottir_ , not son!”

Tony was way too drunk to explain. He looked at Banner, who was clutching a large glass of water.

“Tell him,” he slurred.

“Thor, we don’t use names ending with – _son_ or – _dottir_ to identify who our parents are any more,” Bruce explained, “except in Iceland, I think. Some of the Scandinavian countries, maybe. But when people emigrated from those countries to other lands, they _fixed_ their surnames, to always stay the same. So someone in this Jen’s background was from Sweden, perhaps, or Norway. It might have been three or four generations ago. Or more. She’s Australian though so not too many. That country has only been settled a couple of centuries.”

Thor frowned. “I – see. This is the Sir Names you told me about?”

“Surnames. It means our last names. Everyone in a family has the same last name. And if a girl marries a man, she takes his surname for her own – well, if she wants to. So when Tony marries Pepper, she could become Mrs Pepper Stark. Is she going to take your name, Tony?”

“I dunno,” Tony tossed back another shot. “I didn’t ask. I thought getting her to say yes to marrying me was pretty fucking good, actually, I didn’t want to push my luck.”

“You are going to marry, Metal Man? That is wonderful! Congratulations! When do we meet your lady?”

“She’s on her way back from Japan,” Tony said, smiling blissfully. “Should be here sometime tonight.”

“Like now?” The three of them turned to see the tall, slender redhead dressed in a beautiful grey pantsuit.

“Pep!” Tony attempted to fling himself at her, but only ended up oozing off the bar stool and ending up at her feet. “I love you.”

Her slightly irate expression dissolved into a resigned grin. “You’re horribly drunk.”

“I still love you.”

“I would say that I’ll take you home but as our apartment is ruined along with the tower, that might be a problem.”

“No, ma’am,” Bruce said politely, “S.H.I.E.L.D. have booked some suites at the Astoria for us. I believe they are expecting you.”

“Dr Banner, isn’t it? Pepper Potts.”

“Nice to meet you, ma’am. Er – this is Thor.”

“Yes,” she eyed the God of Thunder uncertainly. He bowed extravagantly, crimson cloak flowing around him.

“The Metal Man will be a fine husband for you, Lady Pepper! He is courageous beyond belief!”

“Yes, I didn’t quite believe it myself,” Pepper murmured, her eyes on the man now slumped against her lower legs, caressing her knee. “And that must be the rest of your team? The Avengers, I believe they are calling you?” She nodded at the three huddled together on the couch.

“Yes. May I introduce you?”

“I know Natasha,” Pepper helped Tony back onto the bar stool, told him to stay and followed Bruce over to the couch. “I – saw footage of Barton from Stuttgart…”

“Not his fault,” Bruce immediately assured her, “he’s on our side.”

“Pepper!” Natasha, seeing Pepper arrive, let go of Clint and stood, reaching out to hug Pepper and kiss her cheeks. “It’s very good to see you! Drink?”

Pepper looked at the almost-empty bottle of vodka and shot glass, and the row of empty beer bottles in front of Clint. She glanced back at Tony, who was waving a beer stein and singing an Asgardian drinking song that Thor had taught him. “Oh, what the hell. I’ll have an appletini.”

“I’ll get it for you, Miss Potts.”

“Pepper, please, Dr Banner.”

“Bruce.” He smiled at her and headed for the bar.

“This is Clint Barton,” Natasha gestured to the black-clad archer. “He’s had a rough few days. Possessed by an Asgardian God, nearly destroyed a helicarrier, shot aliens, jumped off a tower, fought more aliens, fell in love with a girl whose name he didn’t know…”

“Genevieve,” Clint slurred. “Her name is Genevieve.” His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out cold.

“Saved her from being killed under a collapsing skyscraper and took a nasty knock on the head from said tower,” Natasha finished. “Plus I hit him on the head myself a couple of days ago. He might be a bit addled.”

Pepper’s mouth quirked. “Understandably. I have some Stark Industries staffers downstairs. Should I have him taken to the hotel?”

“That might be wise,” Steve said. He stood and slung the unconscious archer carefully over his shoulder. “I’ll take him down, if you will let them know I am coming. Perhaps it might be best to have someone stay with him to monitor his condition.”

“Consider it done,” Pepper pulled out her phone. After giving the instructions, she turned to Natasha, who was unashamedly admiring Captain America’s butt in his tight pants as he walked away, the limp Hawkeye unconscious over his shoulder. “And that, I believe, is Captain America?”

“Steve Rogers,” Natasha said dreamily. “I’ll introduce you when he comes back up.”

“He is _absolutely_ _gorgeous_ ,” Pepper leaned over to speak confidentially and the two girls giggled. Bruce, hearing the girlish giggles, put Pepper’s appletini down in front of her and hastily retreated. “Are you and him…?”

“I hope so, but he’s kinda shy,” Natasha giggled and poured herself another shot. “I really like him, Pep. I mean, really _really_ like him. He treats me like – I don’t know. Like I’m a princess.”

“You are to him.” Pepper sipped her appletini and relaxed on the couch. “He’s from a different time, Tasha. You’re probably just gonna have to get him somewhere private and jump his bones. He’ll never make a move if you don’t.”

“I like the way you think.” The two girls fist-bumped, and then Natasha poured the last shot of vodka from her bottle. “I’m just having some liquid courage. I’m dying to peel him out of that red, white and blue suit and check out what’s underneath.” She saw Pepper looking over her shoulder, wide-eyed. “Oh, shit, he’s behind me, isn’t he?”

Pepper nodded mutely.

“And he heard that?”

“How red is he?”

“Tomato.” Pepper scooped up her appletini and drained it in one swallow. “I’m going. I’m taking Tony home. Let’s leave Dr Banner to wrangle the Thunder God and you two go sort out your differences on one of the Astoria’s super-king beds.”

It took Natasha a good minute to turn around. Steve was frozen in place, his face as tomato-red as Pepper had suggested, quite unable to look at her. Natasha sighed, downed her last shot and stood. Going up to Steve and standing close to him, she said softly;

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you, Steve. But that was absolutely true, what I said to Pepper. If you’re not interested, say so now. Otherwise, let’s go take her advice.”

It took him a moment to breathe. And then he turned, and for an awful moment Natasha thought he was going to walk away. But instead he offered an arm, and said;

“Miss Potts has a fleet of limousines awaiting us downstairs. May I escort you to the hotel?”

“Only if we’re both going to your room,” Natasha tried again.

“That would be quite acceptable to me,” Steve said, blushing fiercely, still not quite able to look at Natasha.

 _I’ll fix that before the night is over_. She took his arm, smiling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Next chapter is a little Steve and Natasha interlude before we get back to the main story - there's a few of these featuring their own strange little romance. As always, I love to know what you're thinking so please leave me a comment!**


	10. Chapter 9a - SteveTasha Interlude 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve takes Natasha back to the hotel, hoping sexytimes are about to ensue. Things don't quite go to plan...
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

He was so _sexy_. Natasha eyed the tall, fair-haired man sitting ramrod-straight on the limo seat opposite her. And so damn uptight. She wanted to see all those barriers come down.

She’d never met a man like Steve. A man who would do what was right, no matter what it cost him. Who would put the needs of others first; who would refuse an order and accept the consequences if he felt it to be morally wrong. Only one man had ever defied an order for her, and that was Clint; the day he didn’t put an arrow through her heart. She had loved him then, for a while, but two assassins together could never work, they were too much alike.

Steve cast a nervous glance at the woman lounging on the seat opposite. She who was so strong, so rigid in combat: she relaxed now as though half her bones had turned to rubber and she was only held together by that fantasy-inducing leather suit. He’d nearly swallowed his tongue the first time he saw her in it. Natasha was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met in real life; her creamy white skin, curling red hair and lucent green eyes haunted his every dream since he first met her.

And now, she had made it quite clear that she wanted _him_. Steve licked dry lips, unable to believe that he wasn’t dreaming. Surreptitiously, he pinched himself on the inside of his arm. No, that hurt: he was awake. Sitting here watching Natasha play temptingly with the zip on the front of her suit top, her eyes on his, knowing that he wanted to rip it down and have her right here, right now.

But they weren’t alone. They were in the back of a limo without even the privacy screen up. Fortunately Natasha had taken the seat with her back to the driver, or the poor guy would probably have crashed by now. Steve couldn’t take his eyes off the deep vee of her cleavage.

It seemed to take forever to get to the hotel. Half of Midtown was still a disaster zone, so their driver had to work around it. Natasha felt the vodka and the lack of sleep beginning to catch up with her, and wondered when she last slept. Forty-eight hours? No, more than that. Shouldn’t have had so much vodka, she thought, just before her eyes drifted closed.

By the time they finally reached the hotel, she was fast asleep, curled on her side, her cheek pillowed on her hand like a child. Steve looked at her with a regretful smile, and then lifted her gently up into his arms.

Pepper, after what Natasha had said to her, had only reserved them one room, and the rest of the hotel was full up. Steve accepted the key from a worshipful porter and took Natasha to the suite – their suite – trying manfully to ignore the way she had nestled into his arms and pressed her face against his neck.

Laying her gently down on the immense bed, he sighed and gently removed her boots. She had to be uncomfortable in all that gear. Slowly he unbuckled her gun holsters and laid them aside, removed her belt. His fingers hovered over the jacket zip and he swallowed convulsively for a moment before easing it down.

“Thank you, God,” he whispered, breathing easier as he found that she _was_ wearing something underneath, a strappy black tank top. She was absolutely dead to the world, breathing heavily and even letting out a little snorting sound as he removed her trousers as well, leaving her in just the top and a pair of distressingly lacy black panties he tried very hard not to notice. With a sigh, he laid a blanket over her and headed for the bathroom to have a long, cold shower.

Natasha jolted awake as the phone started ringing. Disoriented, she grabbed in the direction of the ring and knocked over a handset. She got it on the second grab.

“Zdrastvooyte?” she mumbled.

“Agent Romanoff?” a voice she vaguely recognised said. “It’s Agent Hill.”

“Maria,” Natasha sat up, pushing her hair out of her eyes. And saw, across the room, sprawled on a couch that was far too small to contain his long limbs, Steve Rogers. He was wearing a white T-shirt and tighty-whiteys, and he was goddammit the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. “Sorry, repeat that, Maria?” she’d missed that, but it sounded important from the tone of Hill’s voice.

“Natasha, it’s Clint. Agent Barton. He’s started convulsing in his sleep. We need him back up on the helicarrier now so we can get that head wound of his looked at, he should never have left but Stark just took him…”

“I’m on my way.” She rubbed at her eyes wearily and looked at the clock. Two, three hours sleep? And she hadn’t even had the chance to have any fun beforehand. She looked regretfully at the man sleeping on the couch as she pulled on her clothes, neatly folded on a chair near the bed. But he was exhausted too. In the end she just brushed a kiss over his lips on the way out of the room.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Zdrastvooyte = Hello**
> 
> **I love comments so please leave me some!**


	11. Chapter Ten – The Avengers Initiative

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint finally gets to go looking for Jen, but in the meantime, someone else has interfered...
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Learn To Fly: Foo Fighters  
> Original Prankster: The Offspring  
> She Hates Me: Puddle Of Mudd
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

It was over a week before Clint was able to consult JARVIS again. He’d apparently started convulsing in his sleep the night after the bar, been transferred to a S.H.I.E.L.D. medical facility, and once released from there (three days later) ended up in endless debriefings, psych evaluations and God-knows-what tests on his brain to see if Loki had left any nasty little traps behind (nothing they could find).

Finally Fury let him go. With great reluctance. It seemed he was no longer a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Tony Stark had cut some sort of deal with Fury and the Avengers were going to be an independent body. Captain America was their leader in the field, Tony was the bankroll and tech master, and base was – well, base was the old Stark Tower, now renamed Avengers Tower and almost completely rebuilt already, thanks to JARVIS and his army of building bots.

The Tower had been reconfigured inside and Clint found an extremely spacious suite assigned to him about two-thirds of the way up, with a balcony and lots of air-duct entries. Flopping down on the bed, he smiled wistfully, looking at the duct entry above him. What he wouldn’t give to see a certain face peering down from that duct. He shut his eyes.

“Are you feeling all right, Mr Barton?” JARVIS enquired, startling him.

“Fuck! Yes, yes, I’m all right. Sorry, JARVIS. Didn’t expect you. You haven’t got a camera in here, have you?”

“No, sir, just an audio pickup and a thermal imager. Your heart rate spiked alarmingly for a moment there, sir. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“I’m fine. JARVIS,” he said slowly, “do you have to discuss _everything_ with Stark?”

“I do not have to volunteer all information to Sir, but should he ask me a question I am bound to answer truthfully,” JARVIS replied.

“All right – that’ll do. I’d rather he didn’t know that I – that I want some further information on Genevieve Svendson.”

“The young lady you met during the Battle of New York, sir? Indeed. I have taken the liberty of anticipating your query and assembled a dossier on Miss Svendson. It has been copied to your computer terminal, and so far, _only_ your terminal, sir.”

“Excellent, JARVIS,” Clint smiled. “Would you mind giving me the high points?” This really was a sinfully comfortable bed. He couldn’t be bothered to get up just now.

“Certainly, sir. Miss Svendson is fourth-generation Australian on her father’s side. Her mother, after whom she is named, emigrated from France. Miss Svendson has one sibling, an older brother in the Australian Army. She is twenty-five years old, born and raised in the town of Coober Pedy in South Australia, educated at the University of Sydney, has a double master’s degree in materials science and structural engineering. She graduated top of her class in both disciplines.”

His eyes were closed, but Clint’s brows went up. _That_ couldn’t have been easy. Jen was obviously one smart girl. “So why is she in New York?” he asked after a moment when JARVIS went quiet.

“She was recruited after graduation by the construction firm Colton Hynde, who have branches in Sydney and New York, and thirty-two other destinations worldwide. Colton Hynde have a policy of placing their best and brightest recruits on various six-monthly global assignments. Miss Svendson has been in New York five months now; prior to this placement she was in Beijing, before that Dubai, before that London. That was her first placement after her graduation year in Sydney.”

“So she’s a high-flyer. What about outside of work?” He hesitated, not really wanting to ask, but he had to know before he walked into anything. Wrecking her happiness with clumsy overtures when she was already in a relationship was the last thing he wanted to do. “Any significant other?”

“I do not believe that the nomadic lifestyle she has led for the last two years would have been conducive to such a relationship, Mr Barton. Miss Svendson currently resides alone in a serviced apartment on West 57th Street.”

 _Five months out of six. Only a few weeks left before she’s off somewhere else_. “Where is she assigned next, JARVIS?”

The AI hesitated. “She has not yet been offered a placement, but internal emails between Colton Hynde executives indicate that she will be asked to choose between Mexico City and Riyadh, Saudi Arabia.”

 _Both as bad as each other_. In Mexico City the cartels looked to kidnap anyone who might fetch a decent ransom, and in Saudi any woman – especially a white, Western woman – was treated as a lower-class citizen. Jen would be virtually a prisoner in a gilded cage at either location, unless her firm wanted to risk her. She certainly wouldn’t be running around the streets with a team of engineers. Clint’s fingers curled in the sheets beneath him. _All wrong for her_. _Jen needed to be free, to shoot off her mouth, to walk the streets without fear._

“There is another option,” JARVIS said, almost shyly. “Sir already reviewed Miss Svendson’s resume and today sent her a job offer to come to work for the Avengers Initiative. He was very impressed by her qualifications.”

“What!” Clint shot upright. “What – has she accepted?”

“She sent back a rather rude rejection and called Sir, ahem, a _fucking pimp_.”

Clint couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He collapsed back on the bed. He could just imagine Jen saying that! Unfortunately, it meant Tony was pretty much guaranteed to adore her. He loved people who weren’t afraid to be rude to him. It was why Stark and Clint got on well. They both liked breaking rules.

“Sir does not like to take no for an answer, as you may realise, Mr Barton. He sent Miss Potts to convince her that the offer was genuine and nothing to do with yourself, and your, ahem, _interest_ in Miss Svendson. They are currently meeting in a café at Park and East 69th…”

Clint was out of bed and dragging his boots on before JARVIS had even finished telling him the address. He raced out of the apartment in a dead run and was heading for the fire stairs when the elevator door pinged discreetly open.

“I took the liberty, sir…” JARVIS said.

“Thank you, JARVIS.” He dashed into the elevator. The doors slammed shut and the elevator shot downwards even before his finger hit the number 1.

Clint made it to the coffeehouse just as Pepper and Jen concluded their meeting and stood up. They shook hands, and Pepper headed for the door as Jen gathered up a few papers from the table, stuffing them into a tan leather messenger bag.

“I like her,” Pepper said, running into Clint outside. “That’s one smart cookie.”

“Did she accept the job offer?”

“She asked to see you first. I said I’d arrange it but I don’t think she’s expecting you quite yet…”

Jen looked up and saw Clint standing outside the door. Her jaw dropped and she gave Pepper a nasty look. Pepper spread her hands to indicate her innocence and headed for the limo waiting at the kerb.

“Good luck,” she called to Clint before getting into the car.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **I love reviews and comments, they spur me on to write, so please take a moment and leave me something if you’re enjoying this!**


	12. Chapter 10a – SteveTasha Interlude 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve wakes up alone.
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

She was gone when he woke. Of course. That was what the Widow did, wasn’t it? Steve was fairly sure, though, that others guys got to actually have sex with her. Or be pleasured by her. Touch her, at least, in some sort of non-platonic way. Even a kiss?

She hadn’t even left a note. He rambled around the hotel room, staring out of the window, and wondered what he had expected. She’d sobered up and had second thoughts, he supposed. He was far too strait-laced, too boring, to keep her attention. Well. If _she_ didn’t want him, there were still folks he could help. He reached for his grubby suit with a frown of distaste, but there was a discreet tap at the door at that moment.

“Who is it?” he called.

“Pepper Potts.”

“Oh,” he looked hastily around for something to cover his legs, grabbed a blanket off the bed and headed for the door. “Good morning, Miss Potts.”

“Call me Pepper.” She handed him a large carrier bag. “Some clean clothes for you.” She looked immaculate, fresh, dressed in another expensive suit with those high heels that must be murder to walk in.

“I – ah – thank you, Pepper.”

“No problem.” She was about to breeze off again when she took in his hangdog expression and said “Wait – you do know where Tasha’s gone?”

“Just that she left,” he said a little bitterly, “didn’t leave a note or anything, she was gone when I woke.”

“Steve, Clint Barton fell ill in the night. Natasha was called to take him back to the helicarrier because he was convulsing and delirious, and trying to attack anyone he didn’t know. No-one else could handle him.”

“What?” he startled. “Is Clint okay?”

“I haven’t had an update this morning. I was going to call and ask shortly.”

“Can I come with you? I’ll just get dressed.”

“Suite 3001. Tony’s gone to the Tower already,” Pepper turned on her heel. “I’ll wait for you before I make the call.”

So she _hadn’t_ left because of him. She’d gone to help Clint, who was the brother she’d never had. Jerking on the jeans Pepper had brought for him – how did the woman even get the size right? -  Steve found himself smiling. Maybe he wasn’t totally out of contention yet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Poor old Steve – is he ever gonna get any? I love comments so please leave one and make me happy…**


	13. Chapter Eleven – It’s Not Me, It’s You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those of you who wanted Clint and Jen back together – well, FINALLY! Here it comes. Though Jen’s not very happy with him…
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> I Think I’m Paranoid: Garbage  
> This Is How A Heart Breaks: Rob Thomas  
> Hymn To Her: The Pretenders  
> Feels Like Home: Chantal Kreviazuk
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

“I _knew_ it was fucking well about you,” Jen snapped, storming outside and standing toe-to-toe with Clint. She was wearing skyscraper heels today, with a pale blue skirt suit she knew looked good with her eyes, but she still had to tilt her head back to look up at him. “I told Tony Stark he was a fucking pimp.”

“It’s _not_ about me. It’s about _you_. I found out half an hour ago that Stark was offering you a job. He thinks you’re smart. And now that you’ve been rude to him, he undoubtedly likes you, as well.”

She glared up at him, eyes narrowed disbelievingly. Clint spread his hands, trying to look innocent. “Honestly, Jen. I’ve spent the last few days in a hospital, then debriefing – today is the first chance I’ve had to try and track you down, and when I did, Stark’s AI told me he’d already offered you a job.”

“You must have told them _something_ about me,” she snapped. They were still toe-to-toe, blocking the café entry, and Clint put a hand on her arm to move her gently aside so customers could get in and out. She moved, but she also snatched her arm away as though his touch burned her.

“It was mainly Dr Banner, actually. The guy who was with me when the tower fell on us? He realised that I – that you must matter to me somehow, and he and the others were teasing me when we were getting drunk the night after the battle. I guess enough information came out that Tony was able to track you down.”

Jen was nibbling on her lower lip now, obviously thinking, and Clint’s mouth was suddenly dry. He couldn’t take his eyes off her small, even white teeth chewing on the plump, firm flesh. Arousal ripped through him and he was suddenly grateful that he was wearing loose cargo pants and clothes that shielded his groin from view.

“Is Stark playing matchmaker or is he serious about wanting me to work for him?” she asked at last.

“I haven’t spoken to him about it. But I know Tony well enough that he wouldn’t let you anywhere near his precious labs unless he thought you were at the very least competent. And honestly I don’t think he’s _that_ fond of me to want to matchmake.”

She was silent for a long moment, and eventually Clint asked “Do you have to be somewhere? Can I take you home – or back to wherever it is you work?”

“Home,” Jen said eventually. “I have the day off. It’s not far if we cut through the corner of Central Park.” She pointed, and he gallantly offered his arm. She ignored it and started walking.

“Are you all right? After that knock on the head?” she asked suddenly.

“I’m fine. Thank you for asking.” Clint wondered for a moment if that was a positive sign, and then decided not when she still didn’t look at him, just said;

“Hmph!” and kept walking, her heels clicking briskly on the pavement.

They walked side-by-side in silence then for a few minutes. It wasn’t until they entered the park that Clint ventured to speak again. Jen seemed truly pissed-off with him and he was wondering if she just wanted him gone.

“Is there a reason, apart from me, that you wouldn’t take the job Stark offered?”

“Hell no!” she replied immediately, and he felt something inside him break. “It’s an amazing job – I’d get to play with the new co-polymer metallics Stark Industries have been developing, and they offered me nearly triple my current exorbitant salary, and Ms. Potts said they’d include an on-site accommodation suite and my own lab and staff…”

“Take the job,” Clint said, his voice harsh. “I’ll get out of your way. I can go back to S.H.I.E.L.D. They’ll take me back. There’s always work for an assassin.”

Jen stopped walking, and Clint stopped too, turning to face her. She stared up at him for a long moment and finally shook her head.

“Hawk – you don’t have to do that. I’ll think about the job, but you don’t have to leave. I just wondered if Stark was somehow trying to reward you in some way and maybe you’d told him about me and – I feel indebted enough to you. You saved my life more times than I care to think about – maybe I’d have been able to hide from the aliens in the air ducts, but sure as hell I’d have been in that building that fell if you hadn’t called me back. Or crushed under the rubble if you hadn’t protected me. I _owe_ you and I don’t like having debts I can’t repay.”

“You don’t owe me anything,” he lifted a hand towards her, and then let it drop. “I’d have done the same for anyone.” A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth. “Minus the kissing part. And I swear I didn’t tell anyone about that. Banner told them _you_ kissed _me_ when I was knocked out.”

“Fuck,” she muttered, looking away, her cheeks blushing slightly. “I knew I shouldn’t have done that. But you – you looked so pale I thought you might not make it…”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Clint said. This time, he didn’t resist the urge to touch her, lifting his fingers and brushing very lightly against her cheek. “Are _you_? Banner told me you weren’t hurt, but – any bad dreams?”

Much to his surprise, she flushed darkly. “Not bad ones,” she muttered, turned away and started walking quite fast.

For a long moment, he was frozen in place. And then a huge, shit-eating grin came to his face and he jogged after her. Catching up, he reached for her hand. “Care to elaborate? Maybe I could help you find some _déjà vu_ …”

Snatching her hand away, Jen took it across her body and grasped the strap of the messenger bag she had slung across her opposite shoulder. “I’m not that kind of girl, Hawk. I – look, I know this is the age of hook-ups and casual sex and Tinder, but – I don’t normally even kiss a guy on the first date, never mind some random stranger whose real name I don’t even know!”

“It’s Clint. Clint Barton. _Genevieve_. And I think we skipped over the whole first date thing up in that tower, but I’m willing to go back to basics. Can I buy you dinner?”

“You’re persistent, I’ll give you that,” she muttered, still striding along briskly. Her heel jammed for a moment in a crack in the pavement, and she stumbled. Clint caught her in a moment, snatching her before she fell and holding her to him, her back to his chest. She shuddered, and he let her go reluctantly, setting her back on her feet, though his hands lingered on her waist. _God, she was tiny_. He could span her waist with both his hands. _But she was all woman_ , he thought, looking down over her shoulder at some damned fine cleavage. Her hair brushed his jaw as he leaned towards her, and he caught her scent, soft and clean and summery.

Did her mouth still taste like summer? He was desperate to find out. She wasn’t pulling away, and he moved around her, circling her slowly, and looked into her eyes.

“This is just – some post-trauma thing,” Jen said almost desperately. “You’re a soldier and I know what soldiers are like after battle, wild to get their rocks off. I’m just handy.”

“No,” he breathed, leaning in towards her mouth. “Nobody else will do.” He paused, their lips almost touching. “Am I encroaching on someone else’s territory, Jen? Have you got a guy somewhere?”

“No,” she gulped. _Oh, God, he was so close_. His hands were still lingering on her waist, though he wasn’t holding tight and she could certainly get away if she wanted to. But she couldn’t move and his eyes were mesmerising, deep blue-green with flecks of bright, sparkling gold, glowing brighter as she stared back at him. “Hawk…”

“Well, now you do,” he muttered, and just like that he scooped her closer to him and their mouths met.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Would love to hear what you all think!**


	14. Chapter Twelve - Not Now!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they're kissing - but what happens next?
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Everytime We Touch: Cascada  
> Black Fingernails, Red Wine: Eskimo Joe  
> Acoustic #3: Goo Goo Dolls  
> Sunsets: Powderfinger
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

He kissed even better than Jen remembered. He tasted of coffee and spices and something uniquely male, and he was ravaging her mouth as though he was starving to death and she was a feast laid before him.

Jen whimpered in her throat and clutched at his arms, those thick biceps criminally covered up by the leather jacket he was wearing. He almost growled as her fingertips dug in and his mouth left hers and trailed down her throat.

“Hey dude, get a room!” the voice of some passing kid on a bike startled Clint, and he suddenly realised where they were. Reluctantly he lifted his head, though he kept Jen close to him, and looked down at her. Her eyes were closed, her lips swollen and red from his attentions. Her eyelids fluttered up and she gazed up at him with a look of such passion that he nearly dragged her off into the trees then and there.

“Not here,” Clint husked out instead, quite unable to get a deep breath and speak normally, and Jen nodded.

“My building – it’s not far,” she croaked, and he nodded, moved to her side and they started walking, though he kept one massive arm around her, his hand warm at the small of her back.

They walked swiftly though the park, crossed the street and headed for Jen’s building. She could no longer think about anything but getting somewhere private so she could start ripping Clint’s clothes off, find out what he really looked like beneath, put her hands and her mouth over all those delicious muscles.

“Not far – a couple of blocks that way,” she pointed out her building as Clint suddenly slowed his stride.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, his eyes trained ahead of them. Jen looked in that direction and there, getting out of a black car parked illegally outside her building, was a stunning redhead with a stern look on her face. Jen recognised her.

“Oh,” she said in a very small voice, suddenly feeling cold. “I – I _really_ don’t want to get in the middle of a lovers’ tiff between you two…”

“She’s not my lover,” Clint said sharply, and drawing Jen along with him, went over to Natasha. “What are you doing here?” he asked abruptly.

“Sorry, Clint. But I’m here to collect you. You left your phone behind in the Tower,” she held out a transparent Starkphone.

“Not mine,” he dismissed it with a glance.

“It is now. It’s a JARVIS link. We all have them. Clint, we’re _needed_. Hi,” Natasha took in the tiny woman clasped close to his side. “You must be Genevieve. I’m Natasha.”

“Jen,” she very shyly reached out and shook the offered hand.

“Nice to meet you. Clint?” Natasha shot him a sympathetic, but determined look.

“Not _now_!” he almost growled, and Natasha could only say;

“I’m sorry.”

“For fuck’s sake!” his whole body was tense, Jen realised, and she turned towards him and pressed her fingers lightly against his clenched jaw to make him look at her.

“Hawk, if you have to go then you have to go. When you get back – well, you can come find me.”

Those amazing gold-flecked blue-green eyes searched hers briefly, and then he nodded and let her go. The loss of his warmth left her bereft for a moment, but she made herself smile at him as he got into the car with Natasha.

***

“Why are you in a S.H.I.E.L.D. vehicle?” Clint growled at Natasha as she pulled out from the kerb.

“I stole it,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “I needed to come pick you up and Stark hasn’t sorted out my wheels yet.”

Clint sighed. “So what’s so fucking urgent?”

“You know I wouldn’t have dragged you away without good cause,” Natasha said in a slightly hurt tone. “Thor is taking Loki back to Asgard for his judgement. Fury asked us to be witnesses, and I thought you would like to see that he’s really gone.”

“All right,” he muttered a bit ungraciously. He winced as Natasha casually ran a red light. “But I wish I’d insisted on driving!”

She shot him a glance. “You can return the car for me. Drop me off at the Tower first.”

“And then where are you going?”

Natasha smiled. And then, perhaps because they knew each other better than anyone, she told him. “Steve and I are going out. I’m going to take him sightseeing.”

Clint was glad at that moment he _wasn’t_ driving because he would have crashed the car in shock. “Tasha, you hate touristy shit with lots of people even more than I do!”

She smiled wider, and he settled back into his seat shaking his head. “Wonders will never cease. You _really_ like him.” The sun was shining in his eyes. He fished in his jacket pocket for his aviator shades and put them on.

They didn’t go all that far, along 57th to Madison, then up and back west on 72nd to Terrace Drive through Central Park. They stopped at Bethesda Terrace and Clint saw Stark and Banner getting out of a flashy convertible. Rogers was there already, leaning on the terrace wall looking at the fountain. He smiled at Natasha as they got out of the S.H.I.E.L.D. car.

Thor came striding over, half-dragging Loki, who had a muzzle over the lower half of his face. Loki looked at Clint, and for a moment he flinched, remembering that cold voice whispering inside his mind.

“Hey,” Natasha said softly in his ear, “never mind him. Remember Jen will be waiting for you.”

Clint smiled. Since the moment he had kissed Jen, the thought of having her in his arms, of losing himself in her soft, welcoming body, had never been far from his mind. Thinking of her drove even memories of Loki’s possession of his mind far, far away.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Thank you again to all of you who are reading along and commenting. I’d love to know what you think of how this is going so far; the story plotline starts to get a bit crazy in the next few chapters.**


	15. Chapter 12a - SteveTasha Interlude 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha explains herself to Steve, and they agree to go on a date.
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

Steve kept himself busy. There were plenty of people who needed help clearing up after the mess the aliens had left, not least Tony Stark, who was utterly furious about the fact that Loki hijacked and then broke his tower, and who was now being extremely bloody-minded, even by Tony standards. Steve ended up babysitting Tony and soothing the ruffled feathers of everyone he annoyed (everyone, including Pepper, who told Steve later that he was a saint).

Fury was busy somewhere and without Coulson, they couldn’t get anyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. to talk to them about either Clint’s condition or where exactly Natasha was. They didn’t even know where the helicarrier was. Tony put on a suit and went to look for it, but there was no sign and even his clever tech couldn’t find it.

It was almost a full week after Steve had woken up alone in the hotel room when the piece of glass Tony had told him was a phone started making chiming noises in his pocket. He took it out and held it up uncertainly. “Hello?”

Natasha’s face appeared on the screen, smiling at him. “Hello, Steve.”

“Where the hell have you been?” he hadn’t meant to shout at her. Really he hadn’t. “I’ve been worried sick about you!”

Her smile disappeared at his shout. “I’m sorry. But once we were back under S.H.I.E.L.D. jurisdiction – well, Clint and I are still employees. They wanted a full debrief from both of us.”

“Is Clint all right?” Steve asked then.

“He’s fine, now. Had a subdural haemorrhage but it’s been cleared up and he’ll be let loose in a day or two. Cleared for action.”

“For action? Are they going to send him – and you – back out already?” _But what about us?_ Steve wanted to shout.

“We-ell…” she drew the word out. “That’s why Fury’s been off on his own business. It seems he wants to break the Avengers out of S.H.I.E.L.D, have us be an independent body. He had to get authorisation to release me and Clint. Especially me. They like to keep me on a tight leash.” Her smile was a little twisted. “But in the end it’s all sorted. I’m not a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent any more: I’m on the Avengers Initiative payroll. Which Tony is funding, by the way.”

Steve just stared back at her, mouth open for several moments. Natasha raised her eyebrows, leant a little closer to the camera pickup, and said;

“Steve, what have you done to Tony? He agreed straight off that you would be our leader in the field. No quibbling.”

“What?” was all he could manage. Natasha, seeing he was struggling to process right now, laughed softly.

“Fortunately we don’t have a uniform code of conduct yet. When we do, can we specifically omit the clause about no fraternisation?”

He blushed, unable to help it. “I’ll take that under advisement, ma’am.”

“Don’t you start with the ma’am’s again,” Natasha said sternly. And then she smiled at him, her red, full lips curving up. “Steve, Steve, dear Captain, am I going too fast for you? I suspected I was after the bottle of vodka the other night.”

“Little bit,” he croaked, his throat dry.

“Hmm.” She tapped her finger on her lips. “Well, then, how about instead of me coming down there and jumping your bones, let’s go on a date. I need to update you into the twenty-first century. I understand you once lived in New York: let’s go sightseeing together and you can show me what’s changed and what’s still the same.”

“Yes, ma – Natasha.” He was on familiar ground there, at least. A date sounded good.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. Clint isn’t cleared to fly yet so I’ll pilot him down. Tony’s bought a quinjet off S.H.I.E.L.D. and I need to deliver it. Let’s make it a date for tomorrow afternoon.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I have to go.” And the screen went blank with a suddenness that made Steve blink.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Poor paranoid Steve. Is Natasha playing with him? Bonus points to anyone who guesses which author I am paying homage to with the ‘dear Captain’ endearment…**


	16. Chapter Thirteen - Ledger In The Black

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint's life takes an unexpected turn, and he gets some good news.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Sympathy: Goo Goo Dolls  
> What I’ve Done: Linkin Park  
> Stupid: Sarah McLachlan
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

Thor and Loki were gone. Banner and Stark started talking science as they climbed into Tony’s flashy convertible. Steve smiled at Natasha.

“See you in Times Square,” she said with a wink, and walked away. She didn’t need any extra wiggle in her hips to keep Steve staring. He climbed on his old motorbike with an anticipatory smile curling his mouth.

Clint had taken the precaution of removing the keys from Natasha’s hand as soon as they left the car, so he was driving back. Straight down 5th, then East 44th and into the underground car parks of the newly renamed Avengers Tower. Natasha kissed his cheek and hopped out of the car. He had no idea when or how she planned to meet up with Steve. Right now, he didn’t care.

“JARVIS,” Clint pulled the flashy new phone Natasha had given him, “I need to return this car to S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Agent Romanoff, er, _liberated_ the car from a S.H.I.E.L.D. safe house located at Lexington and East 21 st Street, sir.”

“Could she not have found a closer car to steal?” Clint muttered, but he backed the car out of the parking spot. Traffic was starting to build towards rush hour and it could take him a while to drive the car back. But he’d promised Natasha, and Clint Barton kept his promises. He owed her, anyway. Almost anyone else would just have killed him on board the helicarrier, but Natasha had believed in him, had fought for him even while he did his best to kill her under Loki’s control.

The agents at the safe house were unimpressed when he returned the car and tossed the keys to some wet-behind-the-ears kid. He was about to walk away down the street when the kid came running up beside him and said;

“Mr Barton, sir, Director Fury would like to speak with you.”

“He’s here?” Clint paused, surprised.

“Video call, sir. Secure line in the safe house.”

Clint thought about it and sighed. “All right.”

He was shown into a communications suite and left alone. He took a seat in a comfortable office chair, though he couldn’t relax with Fury’s face glaring down at him from a giant TV screen. Well – sort of glaring. For Fury, it was almost a kindly avuncular smile.

“Director Fury,” Clint said as the door closed behind the agent who had shown him in. “You wanted to speak to me?”

“Yes, Mr Barton.” Clint twitched in surprise, and Fury, of course, noticed. “You’re not my Agent Barton any more. You belong to the Avengers Initiative now.”

Clint nodded. Not sure what Fury wanted with him, in that case. And not at all sure what leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. would mean for him. He’d been Fury’s weapon for so long, the executioner S.H.I.E.L.D. sent in when the target was beyond redemption. Who was he now?

“I have a piece of information for you which must be held in complete confidence,” Fury said. “And I do mean complete confidence. Please do not share this even with Ms. Romanoff.”

“I need to know what the information is before I can agree not to share it, sir.”

“Agent Coulson is alive.”

“Alive!” Clint jerked upright in his seat.

“It is crucial, for a current mission of which you need have no knowledge, that this does not become known by anyone other than a very select few. I am telling you, Barton, because I know you are already tearing yourself up with guilt over what Loki forced you to do, and Coulson was the worst of it. He is not dead, Mr Barton; you can wipe that red from your ledger, as Ms Romanoff says.”

Clint didn’t know what to say. He’d grieved for Coulson, his first handler and one of his first friends at S.H.I.E.L.D. One of the first people he had ever truly trusted. Fury had refused to allow him to go to the memorial service, saying that too many agents didn’t yet understand exactly why Clint had temporarily turned.

“There’s still a lot of red in that ledger, sir,” he said at last.

Fury’s mouth twitched in what might almost be a smile. “We made you into our assassin, Barton, but the reality is for every life we asked you to take, I personally believe a thousand, or more, were saved. And consider Ms Romanoff. You were sent to kill her years ago, and you made a different call. A week ago, she was the one who closed the portal and stopped the Chitauri. If you’d killed her when we ordered, the death toll _would_ have been much higher. Your ledger is so far in the black, Mr Barton, you cannot even comprehend it.”

“But I helped Loki…”

“No, Mr Barton. I will not, and no one at S.H.I.E.L.D. will ever, hold you responsible for those actions. Loki would have opened that portal without your aid. The fact that he held your mind hostage and forced you to help him only increases his criminality. It does not diminish your achievements.”

 _Fury was always so certain_ , Clint thought bitterly. He nodded, though. The bastard had an answer for everything. Clint’s guilt was his to live with, no matter what Fury said. Knowing that Coulson’s death was not on his conscience was a huge weight lifted off him, though.

“As you are no longer a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Mr Barton,” Fury leaned forward towards the video pickup, and actually did smile. “I’d like to say thank you for your service. And the best of luck. You’ll need it.” The screen flicked off.

 

 

 


	17. Chapter 13a - SteveTasha Interlude 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Natasha finally get that date.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Walk Forever By My Side: The Alarm
> 
> (BTW this is a GORGEOUS song with lots of feels and suits the mood of the chapter really well, so IMHO you should put it on to listen while you read...)
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

New York was in many ways the same as Steve remembered, and in so many others it was as alien to him as the Chitauri. With Natasha by his side they explored all over town, through the afternoon and into the evening, stopping to get hot dogs and pretzels from sidewalk vendors when they were hungry. _That_ food, at least, hadn’t changed much.

Perhaps the biggest change was the beautiful woman walking beside him, her hand tucked comfortably into the crook of his arm. Before, no pretty girl would have given him a look, scrawny kid that he was. Today, his enhanced hearing picked up old ladies looking at them and calling them a ‘handsome couple’.

Natasha entranced Steve even more than the things he was learning about modern life. With his enhanced intelligence, he rarely needed telling things twice, but believing that a lady like Natasha could be interested in _him_ was something else. He kept turning his head to stare at her perfect profile, stumbling over his own feet more than once because he was so busy gazing at her. But she only glanced at him and gave that enigmatic little smile that made him have decidedly ungentlemanly thoughts about her mouth.

Dark was falling when Natasha said she wanted to walk back to Times Square and show him the lights at night.

“Sure,” Steve agreed, “and then I’d like to take you to a fancy restaurant and buy you dinner.”

She smiled up at him. “Dinner with you sounds lovely, but I don’t need a fancy restaurant. Some hole in the wall joint is good enough for me.”

“No,” he said, suddenly fierce, “you deserve only the best, Natasha.”

She stopped walking then and looked up at him from those crystalline green eyes. “Steve, you’re a good man, truly good; you don’t know me, the things I’ve done. What I truly deserve is to be screaming in the lowest pit of hell.”

He shook his head firmly. “Everyone deserves redemption, Natasha. You as much as anyone else. We’ve all done things in our life we aren’t proud of. Yes, me too,” when she tried to argue, “the measure of a man – or of a woman – is how hard you try to make amends. No one tries harder than you. When the scales are balanced, your good deeds will far outweigh your sins.”

“And this,” she said softly, gazing up into his eyes as though she could see into his soul, “is why I think I am falling in love with you. You _believe_ in the good in everyone, even in me.”

“Don’t you, Tasha?” he wasn’t even aware that he was using the affectionate diminutive of her name he’d so far only heard Clint use. She shook her head sadly, and he took both of her hands in his and held them firmly. Such delicate hands, but so strong; she had held the fate of the world in those hands a few days earlier and she had not faltered.

“I’ll believe enough for the both of us, if you’ll let me,” he almost breathed it.

They were both oblivious to the streams of passers-by moving around them, until some careless guy bumped Natasha’s shoulder and she stumbled forward. At once Steve put his arms around her, and then suddenly he couldn’t breathe, as she looked up at him. She wasn’t a small woman, but he was six foot three, her head just fitted beneath his chin in the short-heeled boots she wore. She slid her arms around his waist and she just felt so right there, so perfect, that Steve never wanted to let her go.

“Natasha,” he breathed, as she lifted her face to look up at him, and slowly, slowly he bent his head, thinking at any moment she would turn her head, look away, move back…

 _Oh please, please kiss me_ … Natasha’s world had narrowed to the man holding her, wrapping her in an embrace both gentle and at the same time protective and strong. She had never felt more cared for, more special than in this moment. In Steve’s clear blue eyes she could see a reflection of a woman she wanted very badly to be.

Their lips finally met, and it was so unlike every kiss before, those touches she had used to seduce men and women beyond counting, because this man _cared_. He truly cared, about _her_ , not some illusion of perfection she had conjured to fit the scenario, the victim. He’d seen her interrogate a subject, weep for a friend, fight her own demons, and come out the other side ready to kick alien butt. He’d taken her word for it that she would deal with the menace atop Stark Tower and thrown her into the sky off his shield, believing in _her_ every second. And at the end of the battle he’d looked at her wound and shown her that he cared. That _she_ mattered, more than just a weapon to be used when necessity called for an assassin.

“Will you be _my_ girl?” Steve whispered against her lips as the kiss ended, after a perfect moment.

Natasha blinked up at him, bemused. “Your – girl?”

“Girlfriend,” he blinked those long lashes that should be outlawed bashfully. “I – I want you to be my girlfriend. I need to take this slow, Tasha, I’m too scared of stuffing things up, getting this all wrong. I’ve never even had a proper girlfriend but I know how it’s supposed to go, and that’s not into bed after one date. _I’m_ not ready for that.”

She smiled at the reversal of the role she had played so many times, the spooked innocent with a more experienced lover, but for Steve it was no role. This was his life, and she loved him for it, his innocence, his kindness. “I’d _love_ to be your girl.” _I want nothing more in this world than to belong to you_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Comments! I love comments! Please tell me how I’m going.**


	18. Chapter Fourteen - This Requires Being Armed To The Teeth?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint goes back to Jen's place.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Chances Are: Invertigo  
> Slide: Goo Goo Dolls  
> (Baby I Got You) On My Mind: Powderfinger
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

The sun was going down by the time Clint got back to the Avengers Tower. He wanted a shower and change, and then he was going to head back to Jen’s. He asked JARVIS for her apartment number as he came out of the shower and reached for some clean clothes. All his gear that had been at various S.H.I.E.L.D. locations had already been delivered to his quarters in the Tower.

“Apartment 4108, sir,” JARVIS said, and then helpfully added, “Though Miss Svensdon is not currently at home.”

“What? Where is she?” Clint’s head snapped up.

“I believe she may have gone out to exercise, sir.” Jarvis flashed an image on his wall screen, obviously taken from a lobby surveillance camera, of Jen walking out the door of her building. She wore, as JARVIS suggested, exercise clothes, skintight running pants and sleeveless top, a fanny pack with a water bottle around her tiny waist, her hair tucked under that red baseball cap she’d been wearing the night of the battle. She had high-grade running shoes on her feet.

“When was this?”

“Some fifteen minutes ago, sir.”

“Damn, she’s going out running in the _dark_? In New York? Fuck, that girl has no sense of self-preservation.” Clint had been going to wear smart clothes, dress pants and a nice shirt and jacket, but he passed over them and pulled on some clean black cargo pants, black T-shirt, pocketed black vest and his arm guards. He snapped out his bow and selected some arrows.

“A mission, Mr Barton?” JARVIS inquired delicately.

“Protecting Jen from the consequences of her own idiocy,” Clint said grimly. He folded the bow again and slid it and a full quiver into a lightweight soft case. He slung it over his shoulder and reached for his boots.

“This requires being armed to the teeth, sir?” JARVIS asked as he added his ankle pistols and a small arsenal of other weapons and tools.

“Be prepared, as the motto goes, JARVIS,” Clint said with a grin. “I’m not Mr Stark and I can’t call an Iron Man suit to me. I need to take what I might need. And considering that Jen seems to be a magnet for trouble, I might need anything.”

“Well – have a good night, Mr Barton,” JARVIS said politely as he headed for the suite door. The elevator was waiting again to take him downstairs.

The night was Clint’s domain. He took to the sky quickly, happier up there unseen. Balconies, ledges, rooftops, they were his natural habitat. He slipped silently through the night, only stopping when he got to the roof of Jen’s building. Her apartment was on the 41st floor, ten down from the top. It didn’t have a balcony though. Damn. Clint stopped and took out his phone.

“Where is she, JARVIS?”

“Just returning from her run, sir. I knew you wouldn’t need that arsenal.”

Clint smiled, watching from his eyrie as Jen crossed the street and entered her building. “I like to be prepared just in case. Show me which is her apartment, please, JARVIS,” he asked. A 3-D blueprint of the tower rotated above the screen, Jen’s apartment outlined in red. “Thanks.”

“I am sure she would appreciate it if you entered in a normal manner, sir…” JARVIS was cut off as Clint slipped the phone into a pocket of his cargo pants and buttoned the pocket shut.

“Maybe she would,” Clint said to himself, “and maybe she wouldn’t. She needs to know what she’s getting into.”

It was child’s play for Clint to let himself into the building through the locked rooftop door. He slipped silently down the floors, letting himself in on the 41st floor – he did approve that the floors had locked doors on the fire stairs, not just control in the lifts, though the locks could be better – and made his way to 4108. He checked the three different locks on the apartment door and shook his head in disapproval. Not good enough. Well, hopefully, he could convince Jen to take the job Stark had offered and move to Avengers Tower. And in the meantime, he would _personally_ see to her safety.

The locks delayed Clint’s entry to the apartment by less than thirty seconds. She hadn’t even put the chain on, and Clint clicked his tongue disapprovingly. The deadbolt would help, too. But only if she actually _used_ it. Foolish girl.

A song he didn’t know was playing from an expensive stereo system. He paused a few moments to look around. It was a serviced apartment, so the furniture wouldn’t be hers. It was generic beige and white. A beautiful throw on the couch caught his eye, though, and he wondered if that belonged to Jen. Gold and brown earth tones, the patterns were unfamiliar to his eye.

There were a couple of large toolboxes standing under a plain drafting table in one corner of the room, and three computer screens on the table arranged at angles to each other. Her work space, Clint guessed. There was a small kitchenette to one side of the living area, and a single door. The door beckoned him; not quite closed. He walked over and glanced inside.

Ah. The bedroom. Generic again, though there was more evidence of occupation here. Clothes on a chair, an expensive tablet on the bedside table, the tan leather messenger bag she was carrying earlier tossed casually on the bed. The king-size bed. Hell, Jen would be lost in there. He licked his lips. Though he was sure he could help her make full use of the space.

The song coming from the expensive stereo – there were speakers in here too, Clint saw – changed, and suddenly he heard Jen’s voice raised in song. The closed door on the other side of the bedroom had to be her bathroom, then. He could hear the shower running, as well as her singing. She had quite a pretty voice.

“ _Baby I got you on my mind, honey you won’t ever know_ …”

He debated going into the bathroom, but that was a bit too _Psycho_ for his liking. Instead he took his boots and guns off, put his bow case down by the bed, lay down against the pillows and crossed his ankles comfortably, putting his hands behind his head.

A few minutes later, the shower shut off, and a couple of minutes after that, the bathroom door slid open. Clint had been expecting Jen to emerge wrapped in a towel or dressing-gown. He didn’t expect her to be stark naked.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Woohoo is our man about to get lucky? WARNING if you don’t like smut don’t read on after this point….**
> 
> **On the other hand if you do like smut hang in there for the next chapter and let me know what you think of the story so far in that great big empty comments box…**


	19. Chapter Fifteen - As You Wish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smut. :)
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Bad Boy: Cascada  
> I Don’t Wanna Wait No More: Matchbox Twenty  
> Highway To Hell: AC/DC
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen is mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

Her bedroom was lit only by a small lamp beside the bed. It was a faint light to see by after coming out of the brightly-lit bathroom, and Jen had already taken a couple of steps into the room when her eyes adjusted and she realised something was very much out of place.

There was a man lying on her bed, and she was in the nude and totally defenceless. Jen opened her mouth to scream, and in the same moment realised that the man was Hawk. Instead of screaming, she let out a strangled yelp of shock.

Clint sat up, smiling slowly. “Well, _hello_ ,” he drawled, his eyes raking down her body. Too late, Jen raised her hands to cover herself, trying awkwardly to shield her breasts and groin from his gaze.

“Very nice,” he said slowly. “Very, very nice.”

“What the hell – how did you get in here?” Jen asked stupidly.

He raised his eyebrows mockingly. “Your building’s security isn’t bad. But it certainly isn’t good enough to keep the likes of _me_ out.”

Not taking her eyes off him, Jen backed into the bathroom, grabbed the damp towel she’d just discarded and hastily swathed herself in it.

“Shame,” Clint murmured. He’d given her enough of a fright for the moment, though, so he stayed where he was, despite the caveman part of his brain urging him to go over, rip the towel away and just take Jen hard up against the wall. She was one hell of a woman, despite her lack of height; curves in all the right places to make a man stop thinking with the head atop his shoulders entirely.

“Okay,” decently covered, Jen felt a little bit of her confidence returning, though she was sure she was still red from head to toe with embarrassment at his catching her in the nude. “Let me rephrase. _What_ _the fuck_ are you doing here?”

“You invited me to come find you,” he shrugged. “I took you up on it.”

“I didn’t mean break into my apartment and lie on my bed!”

“Then you should have been more specific.”

For a long moment they stared at each other, and then Clint slid off the bed. Jen couldn’t quite keep herself from gasping at the way he moved. He seemed almost to _flow_ , sinuous and swift, and in the shadowy room, in his dark clothes, he was almost difficult to see. One moment he was lying at his ease, and the next he was on his feet, so quick and smooth she didn’t even have time to flinch away.

“I offered to buy you dinner,” he murmured, walking closer, towering over her. “You didn’t say whether you’d take me up on the offer.”

Jen’s mouth was dry. Oh, God, he was _gorgeous_. His arms were on display again, massive biceps bulging from his cap-sleeved black T-shirt, his pocketed black vest open in the front, the fabric beneath tight enough to display every line of his heavy pecs and sculpted abs. _She’d wanted him from the first moment she’d laid eyes on him_ , the devil on her shoulder was whispering in her ear. And the angel on her other shoulder was just staring in wide-eyed, mute appreciation.

“Maybe later,” she said, and she boldly reached out a slightly shaking hand and put it on his chest. “ _Much_ later.”

His eyes widened, and then he smiled, slow and sure. “As my lady commands.”

He wasn’t as unaffected as he looked. Jen could feel his pulse hammering fast beneath her fingertips. Knowledge was power, and she smiled, realising that he had given _her_ the power, despite her near-naked vulnerability.

“Well, if you’re taking commands, Hawk. Get some of these clothes off.”

She felt his pulse accelerate again, and his smile widened to show even, white teeth. He shrugged off the pocketed vest and dumped it over a chair. “Enough?”

“More,” Jen said, a little shyly.

“As you wish,” his voice was a low rumble. Jen sucked in a shaky breath, wondering if he’d just deliberately used the most romantic line in the history of the world. Surely a big tough guy like Hawkeye didn’t like _The Princess Bride_? Or maybe he’d just figured out what saying things like that _did_ to girls – not that he needed any help in that department – just _looking_ at him was enough to make her feel all hot and melting inside.

As he reached down to the hem of his T-shirt and pulled it up, Jen found it difficult to breathe as the stretchy black fabric peeled away, revealing tanned skin stretched over taut muscle. And scars. Oh, God, the scars. She let out a soft cry of anguish and traced her fingers gently over three thick white knots of scarring on his ribs.

“Oh, Hawk,” she whispered.

“It was a long time ago,” he said quietly, discarding the shirt and looking at her small, slim hand, delicately touching the ugly scars.

She looked his torso over, eyebrows raised. It would be hard to find a patch of skin larger than her palm that didn’t have white scar lines on it, some old, flat and faded, some still red-edged and angry. She wanted to ask, but at the same time she didn’t think she could bear knowing. How he must have suffered! Instead she moved closer to him, and curled her hand over the edge of his bicep, forcing the thought away. He wouldn’t want her pity. He wasn’t here for that, and if she wanted him to stay…

“The very first thing I thought about you, despite the fact that you might have been dead and I shortly would be, was that your arms look absolutely _edible_.” She looked up at him from under her eyelashes, a slight smile curving her lips.

“Take a bite then,” Clint said, amused and very aroused. He laughed softly when she stepped closer, angled her head and nipped at his arm. But his biceps were so thick she really couldn’t do more than catch a little skin in her teeth. The tiny pain aroused him further, and a shudder of pure need ran down his spine.

“The very first thing I thought about _you_ was that you had beautiful legs.” Standing this close, he could reach down his hand below the edge of the towel she was still clutching to her and lightly stroke the back of her thigh. “And I wanted to feel them wrapped around my neck.”

Jen gasped, her blue eyes widening with shock. “Hawk!”

“My name,” he said, “is Clint.”

“You will always be Hawk to me.” She smiled up into his eyes, took a deep breath, and dropped the towel.

“Oh, God, Jen,” he said huskily, and then he was lifting her off her feet and lowering her to the bed, his mouth coming down on her breasts. “I want – I want you so badly – please…” he almost choked it, his hands trailing downwards. If she refused him now – well, he’d never force himself on any woman, least of all this one, but it would kill him to walk away. _Please don’t say no_.

“Yes,” was all she could gasp, arching under his skilful, calloused hands. “Oh, God, _yes_!”

She was delectable, pouting nipples on attractively plump breasts sweet in his mouth as he explored her body. Small but well-made, and surprisingly strong: she was muscled under that smooth skin. Her thighs trembled as he stroked them and Clint decided that he really did need to feel them wrapped around his neck. He was ragingly hard and big enough he might do her some damage if he wasn’t careful – she was pretty tiny, after all – so he slid down the bed and opened his mouth over her.

Jen moaned, stars bursting behind her closed eyelids as Hawk’s tongue circled her most sensitive spot, lapping and flicking delicately. Her back arched, hips lifting towards him, and he grabbed her thighs and lifted them over his shoulders.

“Scream for me,” he muttered thickly, “I want to hear you scream.” He plunged a long finger deep inside her suddenly, crooking it sharply to find that tiny bundle of nerves inside her with unerring aim, and Jen did scream. There was no way she could have _not_ screamed, as the first orgasm washed over her in a tidal wave of sensation. His mouth and hands didn’t let up, though, and she writhed as he drove her close to the brink again.

“Ohhhh. Hawk, please! Yes!” she cried as the heat built steadily inside her again, ripples of pure pleasure making her shake as her fingers twisted in the sheets beneath her. “ _Hawk!_ ” it was a scream as she came again, her hips jerking spasmodically.

Clint’s world narrowed to the girl writhing under him, moaning incoherently as he drove her on to new heights of pleasure. She was quivering all over when he lifted his mouth from her and drew back gently, reaching for his belt.

“Hawk. _Clint_ ,” Jen gasped, managing to open her eyes enough to see him stripping off the rest of his clothes. “Please – I – I need you…”

“You’re gonna get me, darlin’,” he promised huskily, retrieving a foil packet from a pocket. His hands were shaking and he had to rip it open with his teeth. She reached out a hand to help him and he nudged it away gently. “If I let you touch me now, I’m gonna embarrass myself.”

Jen smiled, and he finally managed to get the condom on and rolled back to lie beside her. “You are so beautiful,” he marvelled, running his hand gently over her breasts, plucking lightly at her nipples. She held her arms out to him welcomingly, her blue eyes soft and hazy with passion, her smile sultry. He’d never wanted anything in his life as much as he wanted her right that moment, and she wanted him too, she was making it more than plain.

Clint leaned in and kissed Jen hungrily. Her arms went around his neck and she kissed him back, fierce and aggressive, hooking one ankle over his hip and trying to pull him to her demandingly. He took a deep breath and sent up a silent prayer to whatever gods might be listening that he’d be able to hang onto his control long enough that she’d allow this to be more than just the one time, and moved himself over her carefully.

And _that_ was when his phone started playing ‘Highway To Hell’ by AC/DC.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So we have smutty smut smut smut and WHAT????**
> 
> **Not _NOW_!!!!**


	20. Chapter Sixteen - You're Fucking Kidding Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut, following Tony's cock-blocking of Clint.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> All In: Lifehouse  
> Addicted To Bass: Josh Abrahams & Amiel Daemion  
> Downfall: Matchbox Twenty
> 
> Disclaimer: Regrettably, the only character that is mine is Jen. All the others belong to Marvel.

“You’re fucking kidding me!” Clint twisted over and glared at his discarded cargo pants. “Not _now_!”

Jen started to giggle, putting her hand over her mouth to try and quiet herself. “The perils of having a superhero for a lover; the world won’t wait to be saved?”

He gave her a rueful look. “I can’t ignore it. Only Tony Stark would program _that_ ringtone.”

Sure enough, the ringtone cut out and Stark’s voice yelled; “Barton, pick up the fucking phone!”

He sighed and picked up the cargo pants. Draping them strategically over his groin, he fished out the phone and turned it on, making sure that Jen was well out of the field of the camera’s view.

“What the fuck is it, Stark, I’m busy!”

“Sorry to interrupt your nap time, Barton,” Stark grinned at him from the screen. “Cover up, for God’s sake, your muscles will give me an inferiority complex.”

“Fuck off. You wouldn’t know an inferiority complex if it smacked you upside the head,” Clint snapped back. “This isn’t a good time…”

“You’ll be happy I called in a minute.” Tony gave him a smug smile. “I just read an email from that Svendson chick you’re obsessing about. She accepted the job.”

Clint glanced at Jen, who was now giggling into her pillow, her slim shoulders shaking with the effort to keep the laughter quiet enough Stark didn’t hear. “I – see. Thanks. Still not a good time.”

“Are you getting your rocks off?” Tony’s eyebrows shot up. “Barton, I thought better of you. Thought you were going to wait for your midget Aussie engineer.”

“She’s not a midget. And I did.” Clint smirked at Tony. “ _That’s_ why your timing is so appalling. Now piss off and go do your own woman.” He turned off the phone, wished he could figure out how to disconnect the battery – it didn’t seem to _have_ a battery – and settled for going into the living room and putting the phone under a cushion on the couch before returning to the bedroom and closing the door behind him.

Jen was still on the bed, though she had wriggled beneath a sheet, obviously shy about showing herself naked before him. _He’d fix that soon enough_ , he thought, seized the sheet and stripped it away.

Jen squeaked, again instinctively bringing up her hands to try and cover herself, though it seemed a bit redundant now. He’d already seen everything.

“No,” he caught her wrists gently in his massive hands and drew her hands up above her head. “Don’t hide from me.”

She arched deliberately under his gaze, stretching her back and lifting her breasts, smirking when he couldn’t drag his eyes from them. “Why? _Obsessing_ much?” She threw Tony’s word at him.

“Yeah,” he admitted. She blinked at him, a little startled, and he confessed huskily, “From the moment you kissed me, the one thing I’ve wanted more than anything in the world is to be inside you.” He moved as he spoke, easing his body down over hers. She opened her legs willingly, putting them around his waist as he settled his hips between her thighs, his chest pressing against her breasts, though he kept his weight from settling on her.

“Then have what you want,” Jen whispered, staring up into his eyes as he stilled. His lips were almost brushing hers, the gold flecks in his blue-green eyes almost glowing. “I want you too – I want you in me.”

He kissed her then, and lifted his hips to her, guiding the tip of his shaft effortlessly to just the right spot. _Superior marksmanship_ , the stray thought crossed Jen’s mind, making her smile against his lips, and then there were no more thoughts as he started to ease inside her.

She was hot and tight and oh so sweet, and Clint could almost be grateful to Stark for the untimely interruption, because it had just taken the edge off his arousal enough that he was no longer concerned about firing prematurely. He kept Jen’s hands captive above her head though, knowing that if she dug her fingernails into his shoulders he would probably be lost. She shuddered and moaned against his mouth as he drove slowly deeper, and he closed his eyes, unable to look at her, knowing that if he did it would be over too soon, because _damn_ she felt good and he wanted this to _last_.

He was thick and hard and felt absolutely fucking _huge_. It was almost, but not quite, pain that ripped through Jen as he filled her finally, their groins grinding together as he reached his limit. Already she could feel her internal muscles quivering, beginning the tiny clenching that heralded yet another orgasm. She’d lost count after the third; they had come so fast and continuous then that there was no separating them, and her body still hadn’t recovered.

Jen writhed, gasping, and he could _feel_ her tightening around him. “Yes,” he muttered, lifting his head, gazing down at her. “Yes, Jen – let go.”

“You – _you_ let go!” She bucked against him, tightening her legs around his waist, jerking her hips in a frantic effort to make him move. “ _Thrust_ , damn you!”

A smile quirked one corner of his mouth. “I won’t last,” he warned.

“I don’t fucking care just _move_!” It was almost a howl, the words running into each other as she felt the familiar heat beginning to prickle.

He obeyed, slowly at first, withdrawing a little way and then back deeper again. She released the grip with her legs and he moved harder, faster, beginning to plunge. He let go of her hands and brought his own to her hips, tilting her slightly so that he hit just the right spot inside her.

“Yes,” Jen screamed, almost delirious with pleasure. Her hands were suddenly free, and she brought them up and clawed at his shoulders, frantic with need. “Yes – _there_ …” it was a tsunami, this time, and even as she was shattered by the wave, she felt him surge and pulse hotly inside her, heard him gasp out her name as his back stiffened and arched.

“Jen!” He’d known it would happen, known that as soon as a tiny bit of pain was added to this wild pleasure that he would break. She had short nails but her fingertips dug in hard to the muscles of his shoulders, and it was enough. He plunged deep one last time and exploded, his spine bowing as a bolt of lightning ripped through him. “Aaaahhh,” he groaned, his hips jerking as he spurted, again and again, burying himself deep inside her, the insane ecstasy of it blowing his mind completely.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **My favourite line I’ve written so far is in this chapter. Any guesses? One hint – it made me giggle even while I was writing it…**
> 
> **More smutty smut smut on the way soon, and ODC actually get to know each other a bit as well, who knew? *giggles***
> 
> **Still enjoying the story? Let me know!**
> 
> **And yes, Hawkeye DID quote The Princess Bride deliberately in Chapter 15. He knows how to GET the girls. He’s just not confident they’re going to want to keep him around afterwards… the reason why Marvel’s characters are so compelling is that none of them are perfect IMHO. Hawk’s a marksman who never misses, but he’s also got a deeply damaged psyche; he’s a loner with major trust issues and in my version he genuinely believes he’s not worthy of being loved by a decent woman. I hope he doesn’t seem too OOC to you guys!**


	21. Chapter Seventeen - Damaged Goods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post-coital confessions.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Afterglow: Taxiride  
> Bandaged Knees: The Almighty  
> I Don’t Want To Wait: Paula Cole
> 
> Disclaimer: Jen is mine: all other characters belong to Marvel.

Clint lay atop Jen, propping his weight on his elbows to avoid crushing her, his face buried in her hair, spread across the pillow in a thick mass of damp honey-gold. It smelled fresh and clean. Summery, like ripe peaches. He breathed in the scent until his pulse slowed to a steady rate, and then lifted his head to look down at her. She had her eyes closed, a smile on her face as she stroked one hand gently along his spine.

“You’re so damned beautiful,” he muttered thickly, and she opened her eyes and smiled up at him.

“You make me _feel_ beautiful,” she said simply.

He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. “You _are_ ,” he insisted. “Especially when you come.”

That made her blush, but she couldn’t exactly evade his gaze, not when he was still buried deep inside her. He kissed her gently, drawing her lower lip between his and nibbling on it. “I plan to put that look on your face many more times tonight.”

“What, embarrassed blush?” she sniped.

“No,” he eased his hips back, withdrawing gently from her. “Orgasmic ecstasy.”

“Oh,” she muttered as he headed for the bathroom. “That one.”

She’d retrieved the sheet when he returned and curled up behind her, but she snuggled happily into him as he eased in and spooned her. For a few minutes they cuddled together. And then Clint leaned up on one elbow.

“So, can I buy you dinner yet?”

Jen laughed. “You better had. You’ve made me hungry.”

There was a Thai restaurant just across the street, so Clint offered to go collect while Jen dried her hair. She gave him her keys and told him not to frighten the doorman. He grinned, watching her get out of bed and walk to the bathroom. She glanced over her shoulder at him and poked her tongue out to let him know she’d caught him watching.

“What? I’m just appreciating the view.” _And wow, it’s a helluva view_.

The door closed firmly, and he heard a hairdryer start up. With a sigh, he eased out of bed and dragged his clothes and boots on. He checked the fridge and found not much apart from fruit, yogurt, and a bottle of white wine with about half a glassful left in the bottom. Maybe he’d stop in at the 7-11 on the corner as well.

He was back within twenty minutes, just as Jen finished drying her hair. It was quite a lot longer than Clint had realised, he thought, as she came out of the bedroom to find him decanting food onto plates and opening a fresh bottle of wine. Her hair was thick and slightly wavy, falling to the middle of her back, dark honey blonde with lighter platinum and darker caramel streaks. He’d have bet his favourite bow it was natural, the colour not coming from any bottle. It was beautiful. He wanted to fist his hands in her hair and stroke it all over his body, feel it swaying against his thighs as she took his cock in that soft mouth of hers…

“Oh, you got more wine, thank you,” she smiled up at him, interrupting the filthy turn his thoughts had taken at the mere sight of her, accepting the glass he poured.

“I was thinking that I’d get you drunk and shamelessly seduce you,” he deadpanned.

“You already did that and you didn’t even need the wine,” she teased back gently. She’d pulled on a dark red silk kimono, and even though it was belted tightly it still gaped a little in front as she moved, drawing his eyes to the shadowed vee between her breasts.

“It’ll be even more fun with wine. I’m thinking I’d like to lick it off you.”

She blushed, still shy with him, and he grinned, taking the wine glass back from her hand and putting it down, and then tangling his fingers in her hair and drawing her to him for a long, drowning kiss. “But after food. I’ll need the energy.”

“Then you need to get your hand off my boob,” she retorted, and he chuckled and slipped his hand out from under the kimono.

They sat at the breakfast bar and ate, sharing off each other’s plates, although Clint easily ate three times as much as Jen did. Which wasn’t much of a surprise because he had to be at least twice her body mass, all of it muscle, and probably had a metabolism like a blast furnace, considering his obvious fitness level. He ate like he did everything else, swift and efficient, sipping economically at his glass of wine now and then, though she noticed he’d poured a large glass of water too and was slugging that back.

They finished and tidied up together, then Clint handed Jen her wineglass and gestured to the couch. “Come sit with me?” he invited.

“Sure,” but when she sat down, she found his phone under the cushion and handed it to him, eyebrows raised enquiringly.

“Making sure we weren’t interrupted again,” Clint smiled and took the phone, dropping it on the table. “Stark can be a right pain in the ass. He’d probably think it was funny to achieve _coitus interruptus_.”

“He got pretty close,” Jen snickered at the memory. “Is he really as much of an arrogant dick as I’ve heard?”

“Probably. He’s possibly the smartest guy alive on the planet right now, and worse, he knows it. But he absolutely loves people who aren’t afraid to stand up to him, to be rude to him, so you already got on his good side. The employees he likes, rave about how good a boss he is.”

Jen blushed. “I’m embarrassed now that I sent that first email.”

“What did you say exactly? JARVIS – that’s the AI in the Tower – said something about _fucking pimp_ , but…”

Jen facepalmed and let out a groan. Clint grinned, leaned closer to her and pulled her firmly against his side. “Come on, you need to tell me, or Stark will ambush me with it at some point. If you tell me now I might be able to turn it around on him.”

Jen sighed. And then she got up and fetched her tablet, making a few swipes and taps before handing it over, curling back up beside him. “Here. Read it for yourself. I’m too humiliated.”

Clint grinned, scanning the email. ‘ _Dear Mr Stark,’_ he read _. ‘Fuck you and the horse you rode in on. You want to reward your tame archer, screw him yourself, you fucking pimp. Even you can’t afford me because I’m NOT FOR SALE. Yours not at all sincerely, Genevieve Svendson.’_

He laughed so hard there were tears coming out of his eyes. He could just imagine Tony’s eyes widening as he read it, and the huge shit-eating grin which would have followed. “Oh, God, I’ll be lucky if he doesn’t fall in love with you himself,” he choked out finally.

Jen was watching him, the corners of her mouth turned up in a sheepish grin. “I was kind of angry and not thinking straight. I – I’ve spent the last week watching news reports about the Avengers heroes and how you had been magically hypnotised by Loki…”

Just like that, he stopped laughing, and looked at her seriously. “I haven’t seen it. What’s been said?”

She shrugged. “That he caught you in some kind of magical mind-trap and forced you to help him, but that you got free somehow and helped the others take him down. There were a fair few surveillance cameras watching the battle, you know; that shot which Loki caught and then blew him out of the sky – you were going for the kill.”

“I wanted him dead so fucking badly,” Clint said softly. “I still do.” He told her, then, about that afternoon and how Thor had taken Loki back to Asgard to face judgement and retribution there. Somehow, he ended up lying on the couch with his head in her lap while she ran her fingers through his short hair.

“Tell me about it,” she said finally. “Tell me about Loki. Do you remember what he made you do?”

Clint nodded, squeezing his eyes shut at the memory. “Yeah. Look, it was like – it was like when you were trapped in that elevator, watching the battle. You could see everything, understand everything. But you were totally helpless.”

Jen said nothing, just stroked his hair gently. “It’s all right,” she whispered after a few moments. “He’s gone, Hawk.”

“I was trapped inside my own head,” he said dully. “It was like being in a glass cage. I could see everything, hear everything. He _used_ my intellect, my knowledge, my skills. At first I was totally helpless, a bystander. After a while I realised that if he was busy or distracted, I could fight, a little bit. Be slower than I needed to, or interpret his orders slightly different than he intended. I – fought him over Natasha. He wanted something he could use against the other Avengers, and I don’t really know the others well enough to give him weapons against their psyche. She told me that he tried to get into her head when she was interrogating him, and she knew that I had to have been fighting him, because of what I’d given him to use against her. There could have been so much worse, you see. That’s why Natasha decided to fight for me. She knew _I_ was still in there somewhere.”

“I’m glad she did,” Jen said quietly, “because I wouldn’t be alive otherwise.”

“You – are the only thing I have that he didn’t touch,” Clint opened his eyes and looked up at her. “He knows nothing of you. I feel like everything else that was ever good in my life, he contaminated. But not you. You’re _clean_ of him.”

Jen smiled a little sadly. “Oh, my Hawk,” she whispered. “It must have been terrible for you.”

“I don’t want to think about it. I’ll probably have bad dreams for a while, until I get past it.” He smiled wryly. “Nothing new there for me, I’m afraid. My subconscious is pretty fucked up. I should tell you that I won’t sleep around you.”

“Why ever not?” her brow furrowed quite adorably.

“It’s not personal. I don’t sleep near anyone. I have a nasty habit of waking up going in for the kill.”

“Oh!”

“Quite. I wouldn’t want to hurt you accidentally.”

She smiled, running her fingers through his hair again. “Well. If you aren’t staying the night, how about we head back to the bedroom and you can follow through on that promise you made me earlier?”

“Promise?” he blinked. She lifted her wineglass, dipped her index finger in and traced the liquid over his lips. He licked it off, and caught her fingertip in his mouth to suck for a moment. “Ah yes. _That_ promise.” He smiled slowly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Promises, promises… more smut next chapter, I promise! How’s it going? Still hanging in there with me? Things are about to take a turn for the crazy…. I’d love to know what you think of the story, please let me know in that great big empty reviews box!**


	22. Chapter Eighteen - I've Changed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More smut, but there's something not quite right with Clint.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Human Touch: Bruce Springsteen  
> Broken: Seether feat. Amy Lee  
> Gimme Shelter: The Rolling Stones 
> 
> Disclaimer: I own only Jen. Sadly, everyone else is Marvel's.

“Who needs the bed?” Clint sat up and took Jen’s wineglass. “Pretty comfy right here. And won’t leave a sticky bed for you to sleep in,” he patted the butter-soft beige leather of the couch. “Come here, beautiful girl.” Slipping to his knees on the floor in front of her, he drew her hips forward gently, parting her knees, reaching for the belt of her kimono.

Jen was a little shy about being so vulnerable before him, but the heated look in his eyes convinced her to relax. That and the fact that he told her, in that low, sultry rasp she was beginning to realise meant he was very much aroused, just to lie back and close her eyes. Just _feel_.

Clint dipped his fingertips in the wine and drew intricate patterns on Jen’s body, following his fingers with his tongue. He was determined to explore every inch of her skin, to find every erogenous zone. Loki had poisoned everything in his life that had ever been good, digging around in his mind. But Jen – Loki knew nothing of Jen. She was pure and innocent and beautiful, and she gave herself to him willingly.

He was almost reverent as he caressed her, gentle and sure, arousing her to such heights before he even touched her intimately that Jen utterly lost track of anything outside the touch of his hands and mouth on her skin. At long last she forced her eyelids open.

“Hawk,” she rasped out, “will you stop treating me like I’m made of glass and fuck me already?”

 _Well, maybe she wasn’t all that pure or innocent_ , Clint thought _, but damned if she wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen_. He looked at her a little startled, and she grinned wickedly at him, one eyebrow arching. He chuckled after a moment.

“Wicked female.”

“Damn straight. You got another wrapper in your pocket? And get your shirt off. It’s a crime to cover up those gorgeous muscles.”

He pulled off his shirt obediently, unable to deny her anything at that moment. “You’re very bossy for such a little thing.”

“You love it. You wouldn’t have looked at me twice if I hadn’t been rude to you.” Deliberately she licked her finger and drew it down the middle of his chest. He shuddered and let out a little growl.

“Oh, I’d have looked,” he assured her. “I probably wouldn’t have touched, but I’d sure have looked.”

He was wriggling out of his pants as he spoke, finding another condom and ripping it open, rolling it on, suddenly frantic to be inside her again. Up on his knees, he pulled her hips to the very edge of the couch. She lay back, looking at him from trusting eyes, an eager smile curving her lips.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he whispered hoarsely, nudging gently at her with his cock. He was rock-hard and ready, and she was wet, but so small and tight. He watched as he sank slowly into her, spreading her gently to make it easier for her, his hands supporting her butt, until he was seated fully within her. It was the most arousing damn thing he’d ever seen.

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Jen flung her head back and shuddered. “You feel so hard. So thick.”

Clint had to clench his teeth. He would have to take it slowly for a while, until Jen became accustomed to accommodating him. He’d make her sore, or do real damage if he took her as roughly as he really wanted to. She clutched at his wrists – about the only part of him she could reach right now – begging for more in a breathy little voice that undid him completely.

“You’re so tight,” he muttered, “I don’t want to hurt you. But oh, God, you’re so wet…” he could feel a shiver beginning at the base of his spine as he pumped gently, her slick heat grasping him. “I can’t believe you want _me_ …”

Afterwards, those words would come back to Jen and she would realise that he was a lot more broken and insecure than he let on. But right now, she could only concentrate on the thick hardness of his shaft filling her so full she felt she might choke on it. On his eyes, glowing more golden than blue-green as he watched her. On those strong, calloused hands, holding her gently even though she could feel the leashed power in his grip.

“Hawk, I’m gonna come,” she whimpered as he teased over her clit with his thumb.

“Good,” he growled out. “I’m not far off myself, darlin’. Let go for me.” He pumped a little quicker, watching her. Watched her blue eyes glaze over and saw her stomach muscles begin to quiver, even before he felt that tight, milking grip around him. She moaned and writhed, her legs tightening around his hips to hold him still, deep within her, and he put his arms around her waist and lifted her up to him, kissing her hard, feeling her still shuddering and coming, impaled as deep as he could get.

“Aaah,” Jen pressed kisses against his shoulder, his neck, when he released her mouth. “Oh, Hawk.”

“Jen,” he gasped, and she could feel him beginning to quake. His rhythm became briefly erratic, and she tightened her grip around his body and drove her hips back against him. She was rewarded with a low, tortured groan and the feeling of heat as he spurted inside her again.

For a long moment they clung together, both shaking with aftershocks. And then Clint very gently lifted Jen off him and laid her back down on the couch. She smiled at him as he got up, his knees still trembling from the intensity of his release, and headed for the bathroom.

Clint leaned on the vanity, his heart thundering. _What’s happening to me?_ His first orgasm inside Jen had been the most intense he’d ever had. He’d written it off to long months without sex, release of battle tension – whatever. But the second, just now – there was something different, about _him_ , he was sure of it. Loki had told Natasha that he had _expanded Clint’s mind_ , and Clint was suddenly, horribly, certain that the Asgardian had meant more than just the shunting aside of Clint’s own will. Loki had done _something_ to his brain, to the neural pathways there, and he would never be quite the same again.

Jen came in then, switching on the shower – yes, she would be sticky after all that play with the wine, he supposed – and came over to him, placing her slim hand on his back.

“Are you all right?” she asked quietly, meeting his eyes in the mirror. His own eyes, not that freaky glowing blue he’d seen when Loki owned his mind.

He tried to force a smile. She wasn’t part of this. She was sweet and good and everything he put his life on the line every day to protect.

“I’m fine. Better than fine.”

Jen gave him a sceptical look, and then she turned her back and stepped into the shower. He watched in the mirror as she rinsed herself under the spray, holding her hair out of the way. She shut the water off quickly and stepped out, reaching for her towel.

“Because you totally don’t look fine. You look like you’re having a PTSD episode, albeit a minor one.”

Startled, he whirled to face her. “What would _you_ know about PTSD?” He hadn’t intended it to come out scornful, but it did. She raised an eyebrow at him.

“You didn’t dig _that_ deep into my background then, did you? Clint, I have an older brother in the Army. Australian SAS, Special Forces. He’s been there and done that, in Iraq, Somalia, Afghanistan… I have helped him through more than one episode after deployments, I promise you, and I recognise the thousand-yard-stare quite well. I’m no shrink but I’m happy to listen.”

His mouth opened in an O of surprise, and she smirked slightly at him and carried on. “My father fought in Desert Storm back in ‘91. Special Forces, too, when I was only little. Out of his squad of eight, he was the only one who came back uninjured. On the surface. Up here,” she tapped two fingers on her temple, “it took a while for those wounds to heal. War does funny things to men, and women. I have no doubt you’ve seen more than anyone ever should, especially with the aliens, and with what Loki did to you – well to be honest I would be amazed if you’re _not_ a bit crazy, for a while at least.”

Clint honestly didn’t know what to say. She was standing there looking at him from those bright blue eyes that weren’t at all like the eyes he had seen in the mirror when Loki had owned his mind, really, and smiling very slightly at his surprise.

“Clint, it’s _okay_ ,” Jen came close, and reached to put her hand on his arm. “It really is. If you don’t want to talk to me that’s fine, but you really should let it out to _someone_.”

“I – I – if I tell you, you’ll hate me, and I don’t – I don’t want that,” he choked out, to his horror feeling tears prick at his eyes.

“Never,” she whispered, coming closer still and putting her arms around him. “I knew you were a soldier before we ever spoke. I knew you were a killer before I kissed you, and I knew you’d been damaged when I told you to come find me. You’re still my Hawk, and that’s just fine by me.”

He buried his face in her hair and cried.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **AWWW - who wants to give da little Hawkie a hug den? Aha, that's right, ME!**


	23. Chapter Nineteen - I Might Have A Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint 'fesses up to Jen.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> She’s So High: Tal Bachman  
> Kryptonite: 3 Doors Down  
> Lullaby: Shawn Mullins
> 
> Disclaimer: Unfortunately, only Jen is mine, and Marvel own the rights to Hawkeye's delicious ass. And everything else in this story.

He didn’t tell her everything. He couldn’t. It would have taken forever. But he did tell her some of the unclassified bits of his past; how he was orphaned at a young age, ran away from the orphanage to the circus – Barney – Trickshot – the betrayals, the deaths. How he’d lied about his age and joined the army at barely seventeen. How a superior officer had recognised his skills and made him a sniper, but he’d been an outcast even among snipers because of his youth and because he _never_ missed. And then S.H.I.E.L.D. had picked up on chatter about an extraordinary sniper and sent Coulson to see if they could use him.

Of course, Clint had jumped at the offer. He was just twenty then, and S.H.I.E.L.D. were offering to triple his pay and give him all sorts of things he’d never had. Except they’d made the mistake of underestimating him because of his youth, using him only as a shooter when they needed one, and gave him too much free time to get himself into trouble. He got mixed up with a bad crowd and started freelancing on the side.

Fury, not yet the Director, had discovered the problem and brought him into the fold as a full Agent. Trusted him on undercover missions that others thought he couldn’t do. Clint had risen through S.H.I.E.L.D.’s ranks until he was one of their most trusted senior agents. And then there was Natasha.

Clint stopped then, realising he shouldn’t really talk about Natasha’s past, so in the end he just shrugged and said he’d been sent to take Natasha out, but instead convinced her to defect to S.H.I.E.L.D.’s side. It was simplistic but the truth. He’d been accused of being a traitor and all sorts of other things and his career had stalled for a while. Until Fury was appointed Director and set Clint and Natasha up as Strike Team Delta, reporting only to Coulson and Fury himself.

“We were the best. The ones they called on when no one else would do,” Clint’s eyes were far away. “You’ll think my relationship with Natasha is kinda weird, I’ll tell you about it now because I don’t want you to freak out about it and get jealous. A lot of people thing we’re lovers when they first meet us. It’s never been like that. We just _understand_ each other. I love her deeply but like the sister I never had – and I think she’s falling in love with Captain America, and honestly I couldn’t be happier for her.”

Jen nodded silently, accepting. She watched him and listened without judging. Wondering if he’d ever told all this to anyone before, even Natasha. And made herself the silent promise that she’d never tell another soul one word of what Hawk had trusted her with tonight.

Finally Clint spoke of the assignment Fury had set him to keep him busy while Natasha was undercover on a job. It had seemed so simple, just keeping an eye on the Tesseract and a bunch of scientists, until one night everything went crazy and Loki came through the portal. Quietly he whispered of what Loki had done and forced him to do, and how he now feared that Loki had booby-trapped him in some way. It was nearly three in the morning when he ran down and stopped talking, his throat hoarse.

Curled on her bed, face to face, hands entwined with his, Jen considered him before finally asking a question, “So when did you notice things were different? That _you_ were different?”

Clint shook his head. “I – I’m not sure.”

“You’re a bloody awful liar, mate,” she said succinctly.

“Only because I don’t want to confess this,” he sighed. “All right. The first inkling I had that something had changed was a few hours ago. When I first came inside you.”

She blinked and looked startled. “Er – am I supposed to feel complimented or freaked out?”

“I think _you_ should be complimented and _I_ can be freaked out. Seriously, Jen – I have never come like that. Ever. In my life. It was – _extraordinary_. And afterwards all my senses seemed to be enhanced. Just a tiny bit but – look, I have spent my _life_ depending on my senses. I know exactly where my vision focuses and how well I hear – and when I went down to get the food, everything was just a little bit sharper and clearer. And now, after the second time – it’s all a bit better again. It’s marginal, but I can tell.”

“So – you think Loki left some kind of trigger in your brain which unlocks more neural pathways every time you come?” She considered it. “That’s not _impossible_. I’m not a biochemist but it’s a well-known fact that most humans only use ten per cent, or thereabouts, of their brain power. A very minor tweak in the brain chemistry could theoretically cause endorphin release to connect more neural pathways, opening up your capabilities. So every time you orgasm, more endorphin release would increase your natural abilities.”

“Perhaps the most alarming thing about this,” Clint said after thinking about that for a moment, “is that when you said that I actually understood it, and I didn’t hear _blah blah biochemistry blah blah science! blah orgasm._ ”

Jen looked shocked for a minute, and then started laughing. “Oh come on. I don’t think you were ever just a jackbooted thug, not even when you were a raw Army recruit. You couldn’t have been, you’ve got far too tactical a mind.”

“Yes, but I was focussed on tactical _things_. Weaponry and skills and stuff like that. If I could use it to shoot faster and straighter and make things blow up, I was willing to understand it. The whole bio-shit isn’t my scene. I’ll leave that to Bruce.”

She looked a query at him, and he said “Dr Banner. He’s the biochemist. I – might have a talk with him.”

“You should probably get some tests run,” Jen said practically, “establish a baseline against which you can measure, see if the effects are permanent or will wear off. If you really are going to become super-human through having sex – I can’t believe I just _said_ that – you need to know what your start point is. And where it stops. I – am going to assume that the development _will_ stop and you won’t turn into another Hulk? Because if you do I am un-volunteering to be your lab partner for this experiment, mate.”

Clint found himself laughing, but then shook his head. “That’s the scary part, Jen. I don’t _know_ where it stops.”

“I don’t suppose anyone does when they become super-human,” Jen said thoughtfully after a moment. “Your friend Captain America would be the one to ask about how to deal with ‘developing’ those sorts of abilities, wouldn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Clint lay back, grinning to himself. “I’m just thinking about how much he’s gonna blush when I tell him _how_ mine are developing.”

Jen giggled, and then she wriggled closer to him and put her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her.

“I’m sleepy,” she said with a yawn. “So either you can wake me up a bit and we’ll find out if three times is some kind of charm for you, or you can let me go to sleep, head off wherever it is you go at night and maybe get those baseline tests done, and come back later.”

He sighed and kissed her brow. “While I would like nothing more than to make love to you again,” he said softly, “you’re right that I should go and get some tests done. I’m not tired, either, which is weird. I should be. So I might go and see Dr Banner and let you get some sleep. Can I see you tonight?”

“Why are you going to wait that long?” she asked blearily, obviously drifting towards sleep. “It’s Saturday.” His bemused silence made her open her eyes again. “Normal person to superhero, the weekend? Where us normals don’t go to work? I’ll be home all day. Might be in the laundry on level 37 though. Need to catch up on washing.”

“All right,” Clint said. “Later.” He made to leave the bed, but she clutched at him.

“Stay until I sleep? Please?”

He could not possibly deny the piteous note in her voice, nor the soft comfort of her body draped over his. Drawing her closer still, he stroked her hair gently until her breathing slowed into the soft rhythms of sleep. And then he held her for a while longer, taking comfort that at least one ‘normal’ wasn’t necessarily afraid of what he was, or even what he might become. Jen seemed more curious than anything else.

At last, Clint sighed and eased Jen gently from his arms, tucking the sheet around her and bunching a pillow beneath her head. She sighed and hugged it, much as she had him, as he slipped quietly from her bed and gathered his things.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Loki, what have you DONE?**
> 
> **I’d love to know what you think of the story so far – really everything has been building up to this point. Clint and Jen have fallen hard for each other but things are about to go very wrong.**


	24. Chapter Twenty - Baseline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint heads back to the Tower to seek help from Bruce.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Chances Are: Invertigo  
> Monkey Wrench: Foo Fighters  
> Why Does It Always Rain On Me?: Travis
> 
> Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Except Jen.

Clint was back at Avengers Tower within thirty minutes. He dropped off his tactical gear and weapons – most of his weapons, he didn’t like being completely unarmed – in his suite and headed up to Banner’s lab. As he fully expected, the quiet doctor was there, working on some experiment, munching on some Doritos. Clint wandered in and swiped a handful. He liked Banner, and he rather thought the feeling was reciprocated.

“Morning, Doc,” he said cheerfully.

“Is it?” Banner squinted at one of his computer screens. “Oh, dear. It is. Well, and to what do I owe the honour of a visit from a bright-eyed Hawk at this hour?”

“I might have a problem. And if I tell anyone at S.H.I.E.L.D. about it, they’ll yank me back and make me spend months sitting in isolation while they poke me with needles. I’d rather not go there.”

Banner sat down in an office chair and swivelled it to face him. Clint stood with his arms folded, feet braced apart. He was aware it was a defensive posture. He _felt_ defensive.

“I’m assuming, since you’ve come to me, that it’s something you feel I can help you with, and since you mentioned needles, it’s something biological?” Banner probed gently. Trying to keep his tone non-judgmental, because the normally impassive archer was obviously struggling with something that was troubling him.

“Perhaps,” and Clint sighed and grabbed another office chair, swinging it around and straddling it, sitting down with his chest against its back. “I need this not to go beyond you and me for now?”

“Provided I conclude you aren’t dangerous, okay,” Banner shrugged. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”

“And I especially need you not to tell Stark that it’s happened because I had sex with Jen.”

Banner’s eyebrows nearly hit his hairline, and he started to grin. “The little Aussie engineer, you found her?” _Good for you, Barton. Life’s too short and fragile not to go out and grab what you want_.

“Yes, I found her. And no, what’s happening to me is nothing to do with her. I think. Except that it started when we had really amazing sex. Like mindblowing. Like I think Loki might have screwed with my brain chemistry and blown up my mind.”

Banner’s brows came back down into a frown, and Clint explained. He was careful and detailed, giving all his observations thus far, and after he’d been talking for a couple of minutes Banner grabbed a pen and notebook and starting making notes. Which made Clint nervous for a moment, before he realised that it was probably far more secure from Tony or S.H.I.E.L.D. than anything entered into a computer system would be.

“You do realise that Tony will want to actually kill you if Loki has turned you into some sort of Norse God of Sex?” Banner joked when Clint finished, and he smiled ruefully.

“Look, I don’t think it’s like that. I mean, yeah, Jen had fun, but – I don’t think it changed my abilities in that quarter significantly. I think it changed me _here_.” He tapped his temple. “Fuck, I wish Thor was still here. He might be loud and strange but I think he’s a lot smarter than he seems.”

“He’s thousands of years old and royalty, I’m sure he’s seen and done a lot of shit,” Banner agreed. “Well, for what it’s worth I think Jen was right; the first thing we need to do is baseline you. You can do some MENSA tests here and then we can go down to the gym and the range and do some physical exams. You say you’re not tired? How long since you slept?”

“I had about five hours last night,” Clint shrugged. “That’s a pretty good night for me, but I should be tired by now. Do Asgardians sleep?”

“Loki didn’t while he was in custody,” Banner shrugged. “Nor did Thor, while he was here after the battle. We did take blood samples from them both, you know. I’ll take bloods from you and do some comparisons.”

“Do _you_ need to sleep?” Clint asked carefully. “I know you need to be careful with pushing yourself past your physical limits.” Fury and Maria Hill had briefed both Clint and Natasha _very_ thoroughly on their fellow Avengers before cutting them loose.

Banner looked sheepish. “I slept most of the afternoon and evening after Thor and Loki left. I’m pretty much nocturnal these days. Means I have the lab to myself all night.” He swivelled to the nearest computer and started tapping at a keyboard. “Here. You get started on these. It’ll give us a start point for your IQ. I don’t suppose you brought your S.H.I.E.L.D. medical records down with you?”

“No, but if I’m now employed by the Avengers Initiative, we should be able to access them, shouldn’t we?”

“We can but ask,” Banner shrugged and spoke louder. “JARVIS, do we have copies of Mr Barton’s medical records from S.H.I.E.L.D. on file?”

“No, sir,” JARVIS’s mellifluous voice responded. “Ms Romanoff and Mr Barton’s records have been requested as per employee transfer protocol, but not as yet delivered.”

“Well, put a priority code on and see if you can push it through, will you? But just through their medical branch. I don’t particularly want to raise it to Director Fury’s attention. He’d want to know why I’m so interested.”

“You’ve got a legitimate reason to be interested in my medical records,” Clint pointed out, “after all S.H.I.E.L.D. just spent four days running brain scans because they thought Loki might have left me an Easter Egg or two.”

“Looks like they might have been right,” Banner said, and then straight-faced, “a shame S.H.I.E.L.D. aren’t equipped with pretty little Australian engineers. If you’d only boinked her _before_ they ran all those tests they’d have saved me the trouble.”

Clint threw the empty Doritos packet at Banner, who laughed and batted it away. “Here. Get going. You’re on a timer.” He pointed at his computer screen and got up.

Clint thought he did pretty good on the test. There were a few questions that he just couldn’t see what the answer might be, though teasing flickers in the back of his brain made him think he could work it out, given enough time. After that one Banner had him run some visual and audial tests, again on the computer, and some speed-response ones. Then they headed for the gym and Banner wired him up.

He was running on a treadmill, watching his heart rate on the monitor before him, when the gym door swung open and Natasha came in. She stopped when she saw them and looked at him quizzically.

Clint was breathing through a mouthpiece that was connected to a machine measuring his metabolic rate, but he looked at Banner, looked at Natasha, and nodded, trying to convey that Banner should explain it all. Natasha would never betray his secrets. She might even be able to help. She knew his physical capabilities better than anyone, after all.

So when he got off the treadmill, nicely warmed up after ten miles, he wasn’t remotely surprised when Natasha invited him to the sparring mats with a catlike grin on her face.

They’d been sparring for years. He was physically stronger, with greater reach than her, but she was more flexible, sneaky, and practiced. She was, after all, a close-range combatant by choice, whereas he preferred to kill from a distance. They were pretty well matched, though she had an edge most days through sheer unpredictability. So both Natasha and Clint were astonished when he took her five falls from five. It wasn’t easy, she certainly made him work for it, and she nearly had him a couple of times, but each time he was just quick and strong enough to escape her trap and catch her instead.

Natasha got up off the mat after he pinned her the last time, her normally inscrutable expression flickering from annoyed to incredulous and back to annoyed again. “Loki definitely changed _something_ in you,” she said quietly. “I was hoping the bastard was lying.”

Banner slapped a pulse monitor back on Clint and started measuring his recovery time. He was back to normal and breathing easily within two minutes. Natasha, still sweating and breathing hard, watched in silence as Banner made him do some weights, finding out where his limits were there. Everything was carefully recorded in some program Banner had written to analyse him.

“Right,” Banner said finally, “That will do for now. Okay, so we should repeat this every day for seven days, see if anything changes, if the effects do decrease with time. And don’t have sex in the meantime.”

The silence made him look up. Clint and Natasha were both staring at him, looking amused. He flushed. “What?”

“Bruce, we know you’re the poster boy for abstinence and self-control,” Natasha said, grinning. “But seriously? Clint just got with his new girlfriend and found serious mojo sex in the process. He isn’t going to be able to abstain for a day, never mind a week, until her girly time comes around. And _then_ he’ll be jacking off and thinking about her, or trying to get her to suck his dick.”

“Thank you for sharing my personal sexual habits, Tasha,” Clint flushed to the roots of his hair. “Some best friend you are.”

“Oh, come on. It’s the truth.” She turned back to Bruce. “The guy has a high sex drive anyway, and now Loki’s turned him into a Norse sex god. You’re asking the impossible, Banner!”

“ _I AM NOT A NORSE SEX GOD!_ ”

The shout echoed through the gym. There was no way that the two men who had just walked in the door could have missed hearing it. Steve Rogers blushed as red as Clint, but the man with him smiled like the Cheshire Cat.

“This,” said Tony Stark, “is a story I really need to hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(Uh-oh. Tony alert!)**
> 
> **Thank you all for commenting as always. Would love to hear what you think of the twist this story is taking! (It gets a LOT crazier from here on in – bear in mind we’re not even close to half-way through yet).**


	25. Chapter Twenty-One - Get Me Out Of Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team bonding. Unfortunately involving a lot of laughter at Clint's expense.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Help!: The Beatles  
> Lost And Running: Powderfinger  
> Self Esteem: The Offspring
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any of the lovely characters in this chapter. Marvel own everything. Except Jen :)

“I will owe you a favour if you get me out of here without having to tell _him_ about it,” Clint turned to Natasha. She pursed her lips and tilted her head, considering the offer.

“Two favours,” he bargained desperately. “I’ll run interference for you and the Captain to have a proper date. Somewhere private, away from the Tower.”

“Before you offer her your soul,” Banner interjected dryly, “I should point out that JARVIS is helping to analyse all this data, and at the end of the day anything JARVIS knows, Stark can find out.”

“Oh, fuck it,” Clint kicked a nearby gym ball clean across the room. “If you lot are my team now, I guess I can’t keep secrets anyway. I’m hungry. Can we go get breakfast and talk about it then?”

“What a good idea,” Banner said, giggling like a schoolgirl, “we can all get to watch Steve snort coffee out his nose when you explain just how you found out you’ve been turned into a Norse sex god.”

“I am _not_ – oh, for fuck’s sake. Let’s go.”

It already felt odd, sitting around a table eating together, without Thor. But he had promised he’d be back soon, within a few weeks, he hoped. Tony was already in the process of transferring Thor’s girlfriend, Jane Foster, who Clint had met very briefly in New Mexico, into the Avengers Initiative. S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent her to Norway to keep her out of the way while Loki was on Earth, but Thor wanted her close, so she would come to Avengers Tower and join them.

They were already becoming a team, Clint thought, looking around at the others. With all that implied. It shouldn’t work: they were all alpha males and Natasha was not one to take orders, but somehow all of their strengths seemed to mesh when under stress.

Of course, it helped that they all had a sense of humour. Which currently was turned on him, the butt of every joke this morning. Well, the ones that weren’t directed at Steve’s blushes, anyway. Honestly Clint knew that they were actually concerned about him; the Captain especially, who had been through a transformation from regular human to super-soldier, and knew how difficult it was to adjust.

“I don’t seem to be having difficulty adjusting,” Clint tried to explain. “Honestly, it’s only because, well, the sex was so mind-blowing, and then afterwards things were just slightly different. It seems to be incremental, so I hardly notice the change.”

“It’s not as incremental as you think,” Banner said. He’d been messing feverishly with his StarkSlate for the last few minutes. “I just got that lot of test results from S.H.I.E.L.D. Your IQ in those was no different to in your last tests a couple of years ago, but in your test results this morning you’ve jumped 12 points.”

“Not just your IQ, either,” Natasha put in. “I’d say you’re up eight to ten percent in your physicals.”

“Eight point seven eight,” Banner gave her an approving nod. “But it’s primarily in your speed. Your strength and stamina is marginally better, but your reflexes are way up. Which makes sense if Loki interfered with your brain chemistry. That would flow on to your reflexes.”

“Well,” Tony rubbed his hands together. Fortunately he’d been caught up enough in the Science! of it all not to rib Clint _too_ much. Yet. “Off you go then.”

“What?” Clint looked at him, bemused.

“Since you’ve declined to adopt Bruce’s abstinence protocol, go and do the dirty again, oh Norse sex god, so we can do some more tests and compare the results! Oh, and Miss Svendson starts Monday, by the way, and I’m not paying her to screw you during office hours, keep it on your own time.”

Clint glared at Tony. “For the last time,” he kept his voice low. They were already getting enough looks in the diner, mainly because of Tony’s inability to be quiet. “I am _not_ a Norse sex god!”

And he walked out of the restaurant, trying very hard to keep his dignity intact despite the chuckles and snorts of laughter which followed him, and Tony’s shout of “Denial’s not just a river in Egypt, Barton!”

Clint headed back to his apartment to shower and change. It was close to noon; a perfectly reasonable hour to go and find Jen, he thought. She would have had plenty of sleep by now. He looked at his own eyes in the mirror as he shaved off his stubble carefully. He didn’t even _look_ tired. Did he need to sleep any more, even? He still needed to eat; but then so did Thor and Loki. His taste buds were the one sense that didn’t seem enhanced, so far.

Clint paused, looking at his reflection, and leaned closer. Were his eyes a different colour? Jen had said something, in the throes of passion last night, about his eyes _glowing gold_. There had always been tiny gold-yellow flecks in the greenish-blue of his irises, but they looked bigger. And brighter. More – metallic? And the green-blue colour wasn’t right, either. It had always been a variable colour, sometimes more blue, sometimes quite green, sometimes grey depending on his mood. Right now the colour was more blue-violet than anything else, not exactly a shade he’d ever seen in his own eyes before.

He debated calling Banner. And then thought, _no, fuck it, I want to see Jen._ Instead he picked up his phone and took careful photos of his own eyes, guided by JARVIS, who politely didn’t ask him any questions, but agreed to forward the images to Banner after a twenty minute delay, with a request to add them to the baseline data.

Clint didn’t bother with the combat gear this time. He put on black cargo pants and his favourite black leather jacket over a dark red T-shirt, and just put a few things in his soft black bow-bag with the folding bow. He did put on his boots and ankle-holsters, though. And a couple of knives in his jacket sleeves. And his belt with a selection of darts built into the buckle. And then he left, trying to look casual, just a regular guy carrying a gym bag through the streets of New York at lunchtime.

When he got to Jen’s apartment building, though, he politely greeted the doorman and asked him to buzz up to Jen’s apartment. The guy – a different, younger man to the one who’d been on duty last night – gave him a bit of a hostile look.

“Some kinda party going on up there? Residents are supposed to register them. Whatever, go on up. I’ll key the lift.”

Clint gave him an odd look, and then nodded. Who had gone up to Jen’s apartment before him? He didn’t inquire, didn’t want to tip the doorman off that there might be a problem. He just smiled in a friendly way and said “Cool, it’ll be a surprise!” and tipped the guy a twenty.

On the 41st floor, Clint dropped into spy mode. There was no one in the corridors, and he carried one of Stark’s devices that fuzzed him out of surveillance footage anyway, so he paused for a moment to fish out his lockpicks and walked on silent cat feet towards Jen’s apartment. The door was firmly shut, so he silently and gently slid a pick into the first lock and went to work.

He was concentrating so hard on turning the third lock without making a sound that the metallic click behind him made him jump. It was so obviously the racking of a pistol slide, at a range of about twelve feet, that he froze, computing distance, angles, trajectory – all from one click – _damn_.

Too far to jump the guy, too close for him to miss, even if he wasn’t much good. And whoever it was, was no amateur. An amateur would have tried to get right up close and put the gun to his head.

“Who are you, asshole?” said an angry male voice. “And why the _fuck_ are you trying to break into my sister’s apartment?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I’m always happy to hear from my readers in the comments!**


	26. Chapter Twenty-Two - Sister?!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets cock-blocked AGAIN.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Won’t Back Down: Tom Petty  
> We Are Family: Sister Sledge  
> Brothers In Arms: Dire Straits 
> 
> Disclaimer: Only the Svendson family are mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

Sister?!!!

“Stand down, soldier,” Clint stood slowly, raising his hands. “My name is Clint Barton. I have ID in my back pocket, if you want to see it. I’m a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, now with the Avengers Initiative. And I know Jen well.” He had a suspicion it wouldn’t be a good idea to imply any more intimacy than that with an irritated Special Forces older brother behind him.

“Keep your hands up, mate,” the brother drawled, and Clint wished he’d asked Jen more about her brother. Like his name and description. Or to see a photo, maybe. Why the hell hadn’t he taken time to be more observant in her apartment? She’d have had family photos around somewhere. He smiled ruefully to himself. _Serves you right for just being desperate to get into her pants, Barton_.

He said nothing, keeping his hands way up and staying very still. The guy approached, walking almost as quietly as Clint himself could, and the pistol muzzle jammed against his spine while an efficient hand lifted his wallet.

“Hm,” came after a moment. “Clint Barton. All right, provided this isn’t a fake. I’m gonna check you for weapons, mate.”

“You’ll freak out,” Clint said honestly, “I have lots of them.”

There was a fractional pause, and then the soldier said “Well…”

The pistol left his spine, and Clint knew, just _knew_ , that it was coming for the side of his head. The guy planned to knock him cold. He whipped around, crouching, his hands a blur of motion, and suddenly he was the one with the gun in hand and the guy stumbling back, trying to keep his balance, was wide-eyed and stuttering;

“How the fuck…”

“Hands up, _mate_ ,” Clint said. “Because one look at you and I don’t fucking believe you’re Jen’s brother.” The guy was about six foot one, wiry and tough-looking. Black-haired, dark-eyed, olive-skinned – he looked nothing at all like Jen, though there was something vaguely familiar about him that jarred Clint’s brain. Something he couldn’t quite place. And then the Aussie grinned. The mischievous, one-eyebrow-up quirky grin was pure Jen.

“All right, you know _her_ , anyway. You got me, mate, fair and square. Quits?” He dropped Clint’s wallet on the floor and nudged it back to him with his foot. “I’d offer to show you my ID but I left it in Jen’s kitchen. I’ve got my dogtags on, though?”

“Show me,” Clint held the pistol steady as he crouched and scooped up his wallet. The guy slowly reached to the neck of his shirt and delicately flicked out a chain with some tags on it. “Hands laced on your head.” He moved forward fast, jamming the gun against the guy’s groin.

“Hey, no fair, at least I didn’t go for the family jewels!”

“Shut up.” He eyeballed the tags quickly. “ _Jacques_.”

“Yah. I’m her brother, mate, seriously. I just rotated home, found out Jen was caught up in the shit-heap last week, flew over to check on her for Mum and Dad.”

Clint eyed him for a moment. That was totally reasonable behaviour for a brother. He’d do exactly the same for Natasha – _had_ done exactly the same for Natasha – and she was as close as a sister to him. “Where is Jen?” he asked after a moment.

“Doing laundry. But she forgot her detergent and sent me up to get it. She did, uh, mention to me that she wanted to introduce me to someone who might stop by today. That be you, would it, Barton?”

Clint safed the pistol, flipped the gun over and offered the butt back to Jacques. As soon as he mentioned the laundry, Clint felt more confident. That had been Jen’s plan for today. “That would be me,” he acknowledged. “Sorry. I got spooked when the doorman told me someone already came up here. Jen didn’t say she was expecting visitors.”

“Fair enough,” Jacques slipped the pistol away at the small of his back, tugging his shirt-tails back down to cover it.

“Did Jen know you were coming?” Clint politely turned the lockpick in the door, opening the apartment door for Jacques, who gave him a look that wavered between amused and annoyed.

“No. I surprised her about five this morning.”

_So she’s had fuck all sleep and now there’s a Special Forces older brother going to be watching my every move. Maybe I’ll be following Banner’s abstinence protocol after all._

Clint put his bag down by the couch when Jacques’ back was turned, though the soldier glanced at it and then at him with a narrow-eyed glare. Clint attempted to look innocent, and Jacques humphed and tossed him something from the kitchen counter. A wallet. Clint flicked it open, cast a glance over the Australian driver’s licence inside, and tossed it back.

Jacques rooted under the kitchen sink for a moment and came up with a bag of soap powder. “Must be this one. Is this an American washing powder?” He waved the bag at Clint.

“Yup. So why don’t you look anything like Jen?” he’d been studying the tall Aussie, trying to see it. But only the facial expressions gave any clue to their relationship.

Jacques smiled, coming over and pulling out a phone. He keyed it on and flicked into a photo gallery. “Look.”

Clint took the phone and couldn’t help but grin. It was obviously a formal shot of Jen’s graduation, a couple of years ago from what he recalled JARVIS telling him. Her tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed brother in his formal Australian Army uniform stood beside her, and with them stood an older man who looked very much like Jacques, and a tiny woman with Jen’s blue eyes, though her hair was even fairer than her daughter’s.

“I look like Dad, and Jen looks like Mum,” Jacques pointed out the obvious. “Fortunately I got Dad’s height.”

Clint handed the phone back, still smiling. “Now I _totally_ believe you.”

The phone dinged with an incoming text at that moment, and both men glanced at the screen.

_Where the fuck are you I can’t do washing without soap_

They both started to laugh and Jacques texted back, fingers dancing across the screen.

_On my way now just picked up a hitchhiker_

There was another ding as they left the apartment, locking up behind them – Jacques did it with the keys and a glare at Clint.

_O shit tell me you didn’t hurt him I will cut off your nuts if you did_

Jacques grinned sideways at Clint. “I think she likes you.”

A door slammed below them as they descended and Jen met them between floors, flinging herself at Clint. “Are you all right?”

He caught her, grinning sheepishly at her brother. “Jen, I’m fine.”

“Hey, what about me?” Jacques objected.

“What about you, you’re still breathing.” Still clinging to Clint’s neck, Jen grinned at her brother.

“Fucking hell, I’ve been superseded,” Jacques grumbled.

Delightful though Jen felt in his arms, Clint really didn’t want to piss her brother off. He was quite sure he could deal with Jacques if it came down to a fight but he suspected Jen might just choose her brother’s side over his and that would be the end of his chances with her. Gently he set her on her feet.

“My fault, Jen. He caught me picking your locks.”

“See, this is what you get when you don’t knock like a normal person!” she poked him in the chest with one tiny finger. Clint grinned sheepishly. “Did he hit you?” she asked with concern.

“No,” Jacques said sulkily, “I got the drop on him with the gun and was checking him over when he told me he was armed, and then – well…”

“I took the gun away,” Clint interjected politely, trying to save the poor guy’s blushes. “And we settled our differences without anyone getting hit or shot.”

“Oh, good, so you got your gun back,” Jen smiled.

“What – wait? _My_ gun?” Clint turned on Jacques, who rather sheepishly pulled the gun out and offered it.

“You didn’t tell me it was his.”

“He gave it to me after the, um, the alien attack…”

“You said you were nowhere near the attack!” Jacques was suddenly pop-eyed with shock.

“Jen, Jen, Jen,” Clint shook his head. “Have you been telling fibs to your poor brother?”

She hung her head. “I didn’t want him to freak out until after he’d met you and realised I’d been well-protected.”

Clint eyed the gun. “Tell you what, Jacques, keep it for a while. I’m guessing you didn’t bring guns into the country with you, and _someone_ near Jen should be armed. She doesn’t seem to have the common sense of a gnat.”

“I am _really_ going to like you, Barton,” Jacques slung an arm around his shoulders, grinning. “You think just like me. Come on, let’s go. Did lunch get delivered yet?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A quick note on pronunciation of French names (and I’m not French or Canadian, so please don’t be offended if I get it slightly wrong).**
> 
> **The J or G sound from Genevieve is a soft sound pronounced more like _zh_ than any J or G in English.**
> 
> **My interpretation of the names: Jen = Zhen, Genevieve – Zhen-eh-veev. Jen introduces herself to people as _Zhen_ but doesn’t mind if they call her Jen pronounced with a hard J. Clint calls her _Zhen_. She likes that.**
> 
> **Jacques = Zhahk (Jack to those who find it too difficult)**
> 
> **I love comments so please keep them coming! And yes, poor old Clint will get back with Jen shortly, even though the troublesome brother may impede his fun for a while…**


	27. Chapter Twenty-Three - Blaster Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint finds out why Jacques seems so familiar.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Ready To Go: Republica  
> Party Rock Anthem: LMFAO  
> Tubthumpin’: Chumbawumba
> 
> Disclaimer: Jacques and Jen are my own creation, but all other characters belong to Marvel.

Lunch had indeed been delivered, sandwiches from the deli down the street. Jacques apparently had a typical soldier’s appetite and had ordered plenty of food, so Clint didn’t decline their invitation to join in.

“So tell me,” Jacques said conversationally as they finished up eating, “exactly what the fuck has happened here, mate?”

Clint opened his mouth, and then all of sudden his vision went black. The Aussie’s voice seemed to repeat the words inside his head, except now they were surrounded by a Stygian blackness. Natasha was by his side, and he heard her voice say laughingly ‘ _Later, Blaster Boy. Can we talk about it later?_ ’

“Later, Blaster Boy. Can we talk about it later?” Even as he recovered from the flashback and repeated the words, he realised why it was that the other man had seemed vaguely familiar from the first moment he’d seen his face.

Jacques stared at him for a long moment, and then his face broke into an incredulous grin. “Captain Barrett?”

“It’s Barton, I’m afraid,” Clint said, “I was using an alias. And I’m not a Marine.”

“You _know_ each other?” Jen said, shocked.

It took several minutes to explain, and by then they were totally comfortable with each other, reminiscing about the days and nights they had spent in the ghastly Tora Bora caves in Afghanistan. Natasha had run across the Aussie, along with three of his squad-mates, and _recruited_ them – Jacques blushed at the memory – into helping her and Clint as they penetrated deep into a complex of caves, hunting for the kidnapped Tony Stark, whom S.H.I.E.L.D. had sent them to retrieve. The Aussies had come in very useful, Clint recalled. Jacques was incredibly good with explosives, precise and efficient, so much so that Natasha had christened him Blaster Boy. He laughingly told Clint that the nickname had stuck.

Jen sat at the other side of the table, listening eagerly and laughing along with them as they reminisced.

“So why didn’t you recognise Clint upstairs?” Jen asked Jacques.

“Come on, sis, in my defence I don’t think we ever did see each other clearly! We were in caves, low light all the time, except when we lit the place up with blasts and gunfire. And he was pretending to be Recon Marine Captain Chuck Barrett. Besides,” Jacques blushed again, “I think I was more interested in staring at Specialist Yanakov.”

“Romanoff,” Clint said, grinning. “Natasha Romanoff. Or, if you’ve been watching TV reports in the last week, the Black Widow.”

“Fuck me! She’s the Black Widow? How do _you_ know her?”

“He’s Hawkeye,” Jen said simply, and Jacques nearly fell off his chair.

“The _archer_?”

“I think this needs beer,” Clint said, standing up. “Come on. Let me take you to the party. I know _Specialist Yanakov_ will be happy to see you again, Jacques. Jen, I think your drying’s finished.”

It had, and she shooed them both from the room, insisting that she really didn’t need them to help fold her underwear. She blushed and looked at Clint as she said it, though.

Out in the stairwell, Clint pulled his Starkphone and asked JARVIS to clear Jacques for Avengers Tower – Jen already had clearance since she was about to start work – and tell Natasha that he had run into Blaster Boy and she should get ready to party. JARVIS agreed and offered to send Happy with Tony Stark’s limo to collect them. Jacques just about fell over when Clint accepted.

“Tony Stark’s limo, the Black Widow and Hawkeye,” Jacques looked wonderingly at Clint. “Jen has fallen into rather illustrious company. _Dangerous_ company.”

 “We’ll keep her safe,” Clint said, trying to sound reassuring. He had concluded that the best way to get Jen’s quite formidable brother onside was to impress him with his friends and contacts. God knows he wasn’t very impressive in and of himself, and he _really_ didn’t want Jacques to start questioning him about Loki’s brainwashing.

Jen came out of the laundry with her washing basket, and Jacques at once took it from her to carry upstairs, shooting Clint a slightly distrustful look. _Obviously he would still have to win over Jacques into believing he was good enough for Jen_ , Clint thought. He shrugged mentally. It left his hand free to hold Jen’s anyway, and she happily slipped her small hand into his. He’d have loved to snatch a kiss but her brother was watching, so instead he gave her a look that promised _Later_ and received a warm smile in return. She pinched his butt as they walked up the stairs following Jacques, but he’d half-expected that from the smile, and managed not to flinch or squeak.

“Everything okay when you got back to the Tower?” Jen asked innocuously, and Clint shot her a grateful look.

“All good. Need to wait and see what happens next.” He squeezed her fingers gently, and she pressed back and mouthed _Later_ at him. He rolled his eyes at the back of Jacques, just in front of him, and Jen smiled, a confident, I’ve-been-wrangling-this-idiot-for-years smile.

 _Oh well. Worst came to worst he would recruit Stark to party Jacques under the table._ He’d pay for it later, but Clint was confident none of the Avengers would drop him in it with Jen’s brother. Although he wouldn’t put it past Stark to drop _Norse sex god_ references into the conversation. _Fuck_. Well, Bruce, Steve and Natasha would have his back, anyway. _Pity Thor wasn’t here_. He would definitely have got the Aussie soldier involved in some mad Asgardian drinking game without even having had to be asked.

Jacques was suitably impressed by Tony’s over-the-top limo and Happy, possibly the worst-named chauffeur in the universe. He was even more awed by Stark Tower and the fact that they were met at the door by Captain America himself, _in his suit,_ though with the cowl down. Obviously Natasha and JARVIS had checked out Blaster Boy, figured out he was Jen’s brother, and bless Tasha, she was throwing out the red carpet.

Steve gave Clint a look that told him he’d be repaying the favour later, and Clint nodded. And then Steve turned to Jacques and snapped a salute. Out of uniform, he couldn’t return it, but stiffened to a kind of parade rest.

“My brother in arms, it is a genuine honour to meet you,” Steve said with absolute sincerity. “I have fought alongside your comrades, and they did great honour to your nation. The deeds of Gallipoli, Beersheba and Kokoda, among others, will not be forgotten while I draw breath.”

“The honour is mine, sir,” Jacques said honestly. “On behalf of all ANZACs and all of the Australian people, allow me to thank _you_.” He shook Steve’s offered hand eagerly, a look of awe on his face.

Steve inclined his head, and then turned to Jen, who was clutching Clint’s hand. “Miss Svendson,” he executed a bow to her. “Hawkeye has told me of your courage. I am honoured to make your acquaintance.” He kissed the hand she rather shakily held out with a gallant flourish.

“Please call me Jen,” she squeaked.

He smiled. “Then you must call me Steve.” The smile made him seem much more human, and Jen recovered herself enough to introduce her brother by name as they took the lift. Not the penthouse floor, Clint noticed as they swept up. Repairs weren’t quite completed there yet, apparently. Not that it mattered. When they emerged, on a floor he hadn’t visited yet, they were greeted by a large bar/common room, filled with squashy couches, a pool table, and occupied by Natasha, Pepper Potts and Bruce Banner. Natasha wasn’t quite in full Widow regalia but she was wearing tight black leather pants, heeled boots and a laced-up scarlet tank top that left very little to the imagination.

 _Well, at least they didn’t get Bruce to Hulk out_ , Clint thought irreverently. The doctor wore a plain button-down shirt and jeans. Pepper, as always, looked immaculate in a superbly tailored business suit and skyscraper heels even higher than Jen liked to wear. Clint caught Jen looking enviously at the shoes, and indeed five minutes after they were introduced she and Pepper had drifted off into a corner and started talking shoes.

“Where’s Tony?” Clint asked Bruce quietly, as Jacques was busy fanboy-ing Steve and gawping at Natasha. Poor Jacques, he’d been somewhat overawed by Natasha in a dark cave, dressed in military fatigues. In the light of day and fully made up, in flattering clothes, she was breathtaking.

“Going to make an entrance once the other guests get here,” Bruce responded equally quietly, “Dr Foster and her lab assistant arrived from Europe. Steve took them to their apartments to freshen up and JARVIS will guide them up when they’re ready.”

“Oh, God,” Clint groaned, “tell me she hasn’t still got that annoying intern helping her?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t met either of them.”

“Far out, if it’s the same chick, she’s convinced I stole her iPod. I never even saw the fucking thing. It got lost in their boxes of weird home-made machinery.”

Banner shrugged. “Just get Tony to give her a Starkphone. She’s probably already got it. She’ll never miss an iPod.”

“You’ve never met Miss Lewis, she’s the kind to hold _grudges_ ,” Clint said darkly. “She’s the one who _tased_ Thor, if you heard about that incident.”

Bruce grinned, and nodded, and just then the elevator doors slid open and the aforementioned Miss Lewis stepped into the bar, along with Dr Foster, who Clint also remembered from New Mexico as pretty and very brainy, and _very_ angry when things didn’t go her way. Both of them looked at him and narrowed their eyes, and he had a nasty feeling that he was about to be made to look very bad in front of Jen and her brother.

“Today just gets better and better,” he muttered miserably.

“Cheer up, Norse sex god,” Bruce said the last three words under his breath.

“Seriously?” Clint gave him a look. “You did see the brother, right? I think I’ll be following your abstinence plan until I can get rid of him.”

Just then Tony came roaring in, fully kitted up in Iron Man regalia, onto the balcony of the bar, attracting all eyes. Clint sighed and went to collect a beer. _Might as well get drunk then_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **ANZAC stands for Australian and New Zealand Army Corps. It was used to denote a specific unit in WWI but has since come to be an informal name for all Aussie and Kiwi Armed Forces personnel.**
> 
>  
> 
> **Gallipoli, Beersheba and Kokoda are famous ANZAC military actions. Check ‘em out on Wikipedia. If nothing else you can impress the next Aussie you meet with your knowledge.**  
>  **:-)**
> 
>  
> 
> **While Gallipoli and Kokoda are more famous, Beersheba is one of the most interesting. It has the distinction of being called the last successful mounted horse charge in military history. It was immortalised in the movie _The Lighthorsemen_. I love horses and one of the saddest statistics of WWI for me is that of around 136,000 horses shipped from Australia to Europe to fight, one horse went home. ONE. **
> 
>  
> 
> **Quarantine regulations made it too difficult and expensive to ship back the 13,000 odd Australian horses left at the end of the war. Many heartbroken troopers were ordered to shoot their faithful mounts. The book _Bill The Bastard_ tells the story of one of the legendary Australian Waler breed who were considered among the finest cavalry horses available.**
> 
>  
> 
> **You didn’t think you’d get a history lesson, did you? Free bonus gift! Please let me know what you thought of it (and the story, of course!) in the reviews!**


	28. Chapter Twenty-Four - Jackbooted Thug

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Jen sneak off. Darcy gets busy.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Addicted: Saving Abel  
> So Beautiful: Pete Murray  
> Free Falling: Tom Petty
> 
> Disclaimer: I created Jacques and Jen, but all the other characters belong to Marvel.

It was several hours, and eight beers, later, and Clint was still fairly sober. He didn’t think he was turning into Captain America just yet, but the beer definitely wasn’t affecting him as much as it should have been. Banner had stuck by him and Clint had a feeling he was taking mental notes on his condition.

Stark, bless him, had decided to get Jacques drunk, with the enthusiastic help of Natasha and, surprisingly, Darcy Lewis. Although _she_ seemed to be drinking in order to try and hit on a slightly bemused Jacques. Snacks had been delivered and Darcy had seated herself on Jacques’ lap and was feeding him nachos. Jacques seemed to be warming up to the attractive intern-turned-lab-assistant, though, especially since Steve had taken a moment to pause beside Natasha and place a possessive hand on her lower back, brushing a kiss against her cheek before retreating for a while to change into normal clothes.

Steve was now sitting quietly chatting with Pepper, who had taken it on herself to give him a reading list to try and update him decade by decade. They had their heads together over a dog-eared copy of _The Quiet American._

Jen had bonded with Jane Foster over Science!-things, or possibly Engineering!-things, and the two of them were happily designing some sort of machine on a StarkSlate. Clint feared for the Tower’s labs once those two were let loose, he really did. God knows Tony was bad enough with the regular explosions.

“Why don’t you take her out of here?” Bruce nudged Clint in the ribs and nodded to Jen. “The brother is well in hand, and I can go occupy Dr Foster.”

Clint turned to look at the Hulk’s alter ego. “You’re the best wingman _ever_. Please would you be best man at my wedding?”

Bruce cracked up laughing. “You might be a _tad_ premature, but best of luck with that, and I accept. Norse sex god.”

“Pleeease stop with that, I really don’t want it to stick,” Clint begged. Bruce snickered happily beside him as they crossed to the two women.

“Dr Foster,” Bruce interrupted very politely, “we weren’t properly introduced earlier. I’m Bruce Banner. Tony’s been familiarising me with some of your work: it’s not really my field but I’m fascinated.”

Jane gave him a sweet smile, barely noticing as Jen stood up. “I am delighted to meet you, Dr Banner,” she said. “Though it seems odd that you keep company with jackbooted thugs.” Her sharp eyes flickered to Clint.

Clint winced, Jen saw, and rounded on Jane. “Hawk saved my life, Dr Foster. More than once, and he is _not_ a thug. I’ll thank you to keep those opinions to yourself.” Her tone was fierce.

Jane’s eyes widened, and then she inclined her head. “I apologise, Mr Barton, that was uncalled for.”

“You’re forgiven, Dr Foster. For whatever it’s worth, I deeply regret that you felt yourself to be on opposite sides to us in New Mexico. I’m honoured to count Thor as my colleague in the Avengers Initiative and I hope you and I can become friends. We’re all on the same team now, after all.”

She smiled genuinely when he mentioned Thor, stood up and offered her hand. “Thank you, Mr Barton. I would be glad to be your friend. Bygones?”

“Bygones. And it’s Clint.” He shook her delicate hand, thinking that she wasn’t much bigger than Jen and she must look an absolute midget next to Thor.

“Jane.” She smiled at Jen, who was standing very close to Clint. “I’ll see you – later, Jen?”

“Tomorrow, perhaps,” Jen grinned, and hooked her fingers into Clint’s belt. “Come on. Jackbooted thug,” she whispered as they walked away.

 _Not the worst nickname I’ve had today_ , Clint mused, as they slipped silently out of the bar. He saw Natasha wink at him as they entered the stairwell – the elevators might attract too much attention.

“JARVIS,” he said as they ascended a few levels, “has accommodation been arranged for Jen’s brother?”

“Ms Romanoff and Ms Potts prepared a guest suite for him on the floor below the Avengers Bar, sir,” JARVIS replied.

“Would you please have some of her favourite chocolates, vodka and some fresh strawberries delivered to Tasha’s suite, JARVIS? My account.”

“Certainly, Mr Barton.”

“And make damn sure that no one else can access _my_ suite tonight.”

“Yes, Mr Barton.”

“So tell me about the jackbooted thug part of your repertoire,” Jen giggled as they reached his floor, and he realised she’d had a few drinks too.

“Later!” He grabbed her for a drowningly deep kiss, and they almost fell through the door of his suite, ripping at each others’ clothes.

“Hawk, yes, please,” Jen gasped as he dragged her jacket off. He was about to rip her shirt and then realised that her brother would probably see it tomorrow, so he made himself undo the buttons with shaking fingers, and then stopped to stare at what she wore underneath, a royal-blue and gold silk and lace bra that made her breasts look very nice indeed.

“ _Damn_ ,” he said slowly, staring.

“You like?” she dropped her shirt on the floor and spread her arms a little shyly.

“Hell, yes!”

“The panties match. Wanna see?”

He nearly choked as she toed off her shoes and unbuttoned her jeans. He’d been eyeing her butt in those jeans every time she moved all afternoon: they were old and soft and moulded to her body. And without them she was lovelier still, like a Victoria’s Secret model doing a private show just for him, all smooth skin and slender, soft curves.

“Christ, but you’re beautiful,” he sank to his knees almost reverently before her, putting his arms around her waist and gently pressing kisses to her abdomen.

“So are you. I saw that intern eyeing your arms before you gave her the brush off,” Jen whispered, and Clint grinned to himself, thinking he’d enlighten her later about just how much Darcy Lewis hated his guts. For now, it was nice to think Jen might be just a little jealous over _him_. Deliberately, he stripped off his T-shirt – his jacket was gone already – and tossed it aside.

“What – these arms?” He flexed deliberately, putting his hands back on her waist. “Good for some things. But for some things, I like to use my _teeth_.” He took the elastic of her panties between his teeth and tugged gently downwards.

“Ohhh,” Jen sighed and shuddered, putting her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. Once he had the panties down to her thighs, Clint moved a hand to strip them off quickly, and nuzzled softly at her neatly trimmed pubic hair. She moaned and parted her legs, and he smiled.

“In a minute, sweetheart.” He lifted her off her feet and carried her to his bed, unfastening her bra on the way. “Much though I like the way this looks on you, I like it even better _off_ you.” He laid her down on his bed gently. “And hot _damn_ but you look good on my bed!”

She laughed and held out her arms, and he rapidly shucked the rest of his clothes and joined her.

“I thought we were never going to get away from my brother,” she sighed as he began to kiss her breasts.

“Please shut up about him right now,” Clint murmured, sliding lower. “I’m spooked enough.”

“Okay… oh, _Hawk_ …”

“Mmm,” was his only response as he pulled her thighs over his shoulders and started with one long, slow lick. “ _Mmmmm_.”

Jen sighed and threw her head back, squirming against the soft pillows. Clint certainly knew what he was doing with his tongue. He’d already identified just what she liked last night and quickly settled into a rhythm of delicate swirls around her clit interspersed with the occasional hard suck that brought her shoulders right up off the bed, his calloused hands reaching to squeeze and roll her nipples in his fingers in time with the movements of his mouth.

Jen buried her fingers in Clint’s short hair, massaging his scalp, shivering as he continued his ministrations. He was slow and gentle tonight, whereas last night he had been a little rough and almost frantic. _Taken the edge off his need_ , she mused vaguely, _and now he planned to take his time with her_. “Please,” she whimpered, coming close to the edge, needing just that little more. He drew back tauntingly, though.

“Not just yet.”

“Oh, you – _thug_.”

“It’ll be worth the wait, I promise.”

He was right. Oh so right. He brought her so close, twice, three times, and then, just as she thought he was going to deny her yet again, he suddenly sucked hard on her clit and she was falling, screaming his name, climaxing so hard she couldn’t breathe, and then coming again almost instantly as he slammed two fingers deep into her and started pumping. She couldn’t stop, thrashing and moaning beneath that hot mouth and those brutally skilled hands. And then he was in her, kissing her hard, and she could taste herself on his mouth as she clutched at his shoulders and begged him for _more, harder, please_.

Clint had barely retained enough wits to drag on a condom before plunging into Jen. She was utterly incoherent, in the middle of a long, rolling wave of climaxes which dragged him along with her and made him explode long before he really intended to.

Once again the orgasm that ripped through him seemed _more_ than he had ever experienced before, though it was difficult to analyse exactly _how_ it was different. At that exact moment he couldn’t analyse anything. It was only afterwards that he thought back and realised that it was a more complete lack of awareness. Always before during orgasm he had retained _some_ comprehension, some knowledge of his surroundings. But now, for those few intense moments, there was nothing but the pleasure.

Jen was still clenching around him as he came slowly back to his senses, her breath coming in sobbing gasps as she clawed at his shoulders, and he moved gently inside her even as he softened, easing her back down slowly to earth. Afterwards, he didn’t want to let go so he rolled them carefully, laying her on his chest, stroking her back lightly with his hands, feeling her heartbeat slowing gradually, listening to her breathing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **So is Bruce Banner the best wingman ever?**
> 
> **I’ve been asked what actors would play Jacques and Jen on screen. Jen’s easy casting because of her tiny size: she’d be a blonde Isla Fischer – 5 foot 2 tall and Australian so the accent is sorted. Hayden Panettiere at 5 foot 0 is an alternative. Jacques I think probably James Franco or maybe Kit Harington.**
> 
> **However if none of these fit your mental pictures, feel free to tell me who you think they should look like!**


	29. Chapter Twenty-Five - My Eyes!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From excellent to awful in the blink of an eye...
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Voodoo People: The Prodigy  
> Shine On You Crazy Diamond: Pink Floyd  
> All I Want Is You: U2
> 
> Disclaimer: Only Jen and Jacques are mine. All other characters belong to Marvel.

“My own personal sex god,” Jen sighed at last, and to her dismay felt Clint go completely tense beneath her. She lifted her head at once to look at his face. “What? What did I say? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to come over all possessive…”

He soothed her with a firm hug. “It’s not that, Jen. I’m happy you want to be possessive of me. Really. I just – when I talked to Bruce, Dr Banner, earlier, the other Avengers kind of all got involved in the testing and my results and they started calling me _Norse sex god_ as a tease, after whatever it is Loki has done to my mind. And I’m not comfortable with it….” He trailed off as he realised Jen was staring at him with a strange look on her face. “What?”

“Your _eyes_ ,” she whispered. She looked a little frightened.

“I need to see,” he said at once, and she wriggled off him and followed him to the bathroom, where he switched on the light and leaned close to the mirror. “Oh, _fuck_.”

His eyes no longer looked human. The irises were still round, but they were no longer predominantly blue-green, now alternating thin radiating stripes of bright metallic gold with an equally metallic royal purple. Both colours were utterly unnatural, never mind the starburst-effect pattern.

“They’re beautiful,” Jen broke the awful silence, “but I’m now officially a bit freaked out.”

Clint turned to her, a look of such agony on his face that she couldn’t help but put her arms around him and hug him. He was too broad and thick with muscle for her to get her hands to meet behind his back, but she put everything she had into the hug and after a moment he hugged her back.

“I’m scared,” he mumbled into her hair. “God, Jen! What’s happening to me? This is the worst thing _ever_. And is it going to ruin _us_? I want you so much but now every time we make love – am I going to turn into some kind of monster?”

“You’re not a monster,” she held on to him when he would perhaps have pulled away. “You’re still _you_ , Hawk, you’re still the man who saved me. You’re still gentle – with me, at least – and thoughtful and human. Even if your eyes look a bit strange that’s not going to change how I feel about you. I’m with you, and I’m staying as long as you let me.”

“I just feel,” Clint muttered after a long moment of offering up silent thanks for the small, strong woman who he was clinging to as the only anchor in suddenly turbulent seas, “that Loki has poisoned the only good thing that’s happened to me in longer than I can remember.”

“You won’t get rid of me that easily,” she let out a small chuckle against his shoulder. “But I do think we’d better get dressed and go find Dr Banner so he can take a look at your eyes. If we stay here naked you know as well as I do that _things_ are going to happen sooner rather than later that might affect you further.”

He sighed, silently agreeing with her, and let her go to go and retrieve her clothes. They returned to the bar hand in hand a little while later, and Bruce saw them and raised his eyebrows. Clint kept his eyes down so no one could see the change in his irises, but when he got close to Bruce he lifted them and saw the doctor flinch.

“Fuck,” Bruce said under his breath, relinquished his position beside Jane back to Jen, and stood up. Drawing Clint over towards the pool table, where there was a brighter light, he looked closely at his eyes. “Jesus, that is really spooky.”

 _Says Bruce, with lurid green flecks in his own eyes,_ Clint thought.

“I need to get out of here and away from Jen because I’m really fucking spooked and every time I – I just need to get away from temptation,” Clint said it really fast.

“And we need to contact Asgard and find out what the fuck Loki has done to you.” Bruce looked at him with sympathy. “I need to bring Dr Foster in on at least some of this. She’s got an idea for a machine that, if we can tap enough power from the Tower’s arc reactor, might enable us to get a message through the Realms.”

Clint nodded miserably. “Whatever. Please help me,” he almost begged.

Bruce nodded silently. “I’ll get Tony. We’ll need his help to build the machine.” He glanced around, and then headed over to Pepper and Steve. Sitting down with them, he leaned over and quietly broke in on their conversation.

Clint saw Pepper give him a shocked look after a moment, but then she nodded and stood.

Within ten minutes, Pepper, Steve and Natasha had wrangled the happily drunk Jacques out of the bar, Natasha peeling Darcy Lewis off Jacques and taking her away in a different elevator, to Jane Foster’s obvious relief. Tony sighed, took a bottle from under the bar and poured a shot from it.

“I don’t think more booze will help, Stark,” Clint called, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

“Music off, JARVIS. No, it wouldn’t.” Stark downed the shot and scowled. “But that’s anti-booze. A sobering agent I came up with. Yuck. It tastes just like motor oil.” He shook himself and came walking over. “Just couldn’t keep it in your pants until after the party, could you, Norse sex god?”

Jen intercepted him before he got there, poking a sharp finger into his chest and fortunately missing the arc reactor. “Don’t call him that, mate, he doesn’t like it and it’s not fair!”

Tony raised his eyebrows at the tiny, angry woman before him. “This must be your partner in sex crime, Clint. Hello, Miss Svendson.”

Clint gave Jen credit for guts. She didn’t back down. “This isn’t fucking funny, Mr Stark. That bastard Loki has done something to Hawk and we need to fix it.”

Bruce had been quietly filling Jane Foster in on Clint’s predicament, and she suddenly shot to her feet, hand to her mouth, and cried; “But what about Erik?”

“Who?” Tony turned to her, frowning.

“Dr Selvig! Loki possessed him too!”

“Oh, shit,” Clint muttered. How the _hell_ had he forgotten the physicist? Bruce smiled, though.

“Considering, the, ah, _activation method_ , I suspect Dr Selvig is in considerably less _immediate_ danger than Barton. Since he’s nearly seventy and unmarried. He’s in the process of being transferred from S.H.I.E.L.D. to us, Dr Foster, and we’ll examine him when he gets here. Let’s worry about the problem before us right now. I suggest I take Barton to my lab and run some more physical tests, and you lot,” his finger circled Stark, Foster and Jen, “get to the R &D labs and start building that extra-dimensional communicator of yours, Dr Foster. And Tony?”

“What?” Tony said a bit sulkily.

“Play nice with your toys. Share. I’ll send Steve down to babysit you in a bit.”

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

“Yes, you do,” Bruce and Clint chorused together.

“Plus,” Clint added, “what idiot would trust you alone in a lab with two beautiful women?”

That made Tony grin. “You have a point there, Barton. All right, Banner. I’ll play nice. And don’t worry, Hawkeye,” he threw over his shoulder as he escorted the two women towards the elevator, “I’ll take _good care_ of your girl.”

Clint closed his eyes and clenched his fists. He suspected Tony was very unlikely to cheat on Pepper, and Jen would probably cut off his nuts if he touched her anyway, but he couldn’t like the other man flirting with his woman.

“Come on,” Bruce said kindly, “you know he’s teasing, Clint. And it gets Jen away from you and kept busy. She wants to help.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Oh dear, things are going a bit wrong – what’s happening to poor Clint?**
> 
> **I always love to hear from you so please leave me a comment!**


	30. Chapter Twenty-Six - Can We Talk About This First?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jacques and Clint have a confrontation.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Won’t Back Down: Tom Petty  
> Be Like That: 3 Doors Down  
> Welcome To The Jungle: Guns ‘n’Roses
> 
> Disclaimer: Jacques and Jen are mine, everyone else belongs to Marvel.

Things went rapidly to shit from Clint’s perspective from that point onwards. Jane Foster let a few things slip to Darcy, once the intern had slept off the booze, and Darcy promptly extrapolated. To Jacques, when she saw him at lunch. Jen’s brother caught up with him in the gym the following afternoon.

Banner had gone to get some sleep, as he wasn’t much use once he’d run Clint through another lot of tests and left JARVIS in charge of analysing the data. Natasha had taken over scientist-wrangling from Steve for a while, and Clint, still not remotely in need of sleep, went to the range to fire a few dozen arrows, a few hundred rounds, and throw knives into targets for a while.

Clint wasn’t feeling at all well. He felt a little hot and shaky, his skin sensitive, almost itching. A fierce need to be with Jen drove him back to the gym to lurk in his nest of ropes near the ceiling for a bit. He had to stay away from Jen until they figured out what was wrong with him.

He was all alone, and trying to meditate, put his mind into a quiet space for a while, when a shout interrupted him.

“You can come down and face me or I can shoot you down with your own gun, mate!”

“Oh, fuck,” Clint looked down at Jen’s brother, standing pointing his own pistol at him with a rock-steady hand. “Can we at least keep lethal weapons out of this?” he called down. He hadn’t got any on him. Banner had made him strip to just running shorts so he could attach extra electrodes for the tests, and he hadn’t put anything else on yet. He felt too hot and sick.

“For now.” Jacques walked to the back of the gym, put the pistol down on a ledge, and walked back. “Now get the fuck down here and take what you’ve got coming.”

 _He’s going to want to hurt me. And if I hurt_ him _, Jen is never going to speak to me again. I am in a lose-lose situation here_. Clint sighed, swung out of his nest and slid down a rope to land lightly on his feet. “Can we talk about this first?”

“What’s to talk about, mate? You got your mind fucked over by an alien, and every time you bang _my sister_ you turn more fucking freaky. You knew that and you still banged her _again_?”

Clint winced. Acknowledged that he might have a point.

“It was dumb, once I knew something was happening to me,” he accepted. “It won’t happen again until – _if_ – whatever this is can be fixed. Or stopped. I don’t like it any more than you do.”

“You apparently like banging _my sister_ enough to endanger her, though!” Jacques snarled.

“I love her.”

That froze Jacques for a moment, and then the Aussie roared like a bull and charged. “ _Then leave her the fuck alone!_ ”

It should have been simple; Jacques was angry. But he was also an experienced Special Forces soldier well-trained in hand-to-hand combat and trying to hurt Clint, put him out of action for a bit with a cheap shot or two to the groin, and Clint really didn’t want to damage Jen’s brother. He realised suddenly that he should have requested JARVIS summon the other Avengers before he even came down from the ceiling, but it was a bit late now. Hopefully the AI would take the initiative. He was a bit occupied trying to defend himself while not breaking Jacques in the process.

Fortunately it only lasted about five minutes before Natasha and Steve came bursting into the gym at a dead run. They hurled themselves into the fray, and at three on one the fight was over. Jacques was on the floor in under fifteen seconds, pinned.

“Fucking asshole,” Jacques grunted. “Can’t even take a beating like a man.”

“You got your licks in.” Clint could feel blood trickling down his chin from where his lips had been mashed against his teeth. Courtesy of Jacques’ elbow. There were bruises springing up in a selection of painful spots on his body, too. “I love Jen but I’m not willing to let you kill me for it.” He met Natasha’s eyes, wide with surprise, and grinned ruefully. “I haven’t even told _her_ yet. And she’ll never love me back if I hurt her brother, so we’re gonna let you go, and we’ll call it evens, if I promise not to touch Jen until we can be sure I’m not endangering her, okay?”

Jacques said nothing, and Natasha tightened her thighs around Jacques’ neck. “Don’t make me hurt you, sugar. I don’t give a fuck if Jen likes me or not, but you won’t hurt my friend while I have a say in it.”

“Sure,” Jacques grinned up at her. “I was just enjoying the position.”

“Asshole.” She slapped his face and stood up.

“Oh, come on,” Jacques, still flat on his back on the floor, said to Clint as he shook his head resignedly. “How many men can say they’ve had their face between the Black Widow’s thighs and lived to tell the tale?”

“One less if he tries to brag about it,” Steve put a large boot on Jacques’ chest and leant on it lightly.

“Yes, sir, but you’re spoiling all my fun, sir,” Jacques said, and Steve grinned, lifted his boot off and stooped to offer a big hand.

“Disrespecting ladies isn’t _fun_ , son,” Steve said firmly, yanking the Australian to his feet. “And if you disrespect _my_ lady, you will answer to _me_.”

“Your… you two are..?” Jacques looked from Steve to Natasha. Natasha gave a funny little half-smile and Steve blushed. “Way to go, _sir_!”

The door slammed open again and Jen came racing in, followed by Jane and Darcy.

“Did you kick him in?” Darcy said rather too eagerly.

“Gave it a good go, Darcy girl,” Jacques said with a bitter smile, “but reinforcements arrived.”

“You!” Jen rounded on Darcy. “ _You_ sent my brother after Clint?”

“He stole my iPod!” Darcy snapped.

The _crack_ of Jen’s hand connecting with Darcy’s cheek surprised everyone. Darcy’s hand dived into her pocket, but Jane was suddenly gripping her wrist.

“Not this time, you don’t!”

“They could have _killed_ each other and you are worried about a stupid fucking iPod!” Jen screamed in Darcy's face. “Grow _up_ , you self-absorbed idiot!”

Darcy froze, and her right cheek slowly darkened to a red to match Jen’s handprint on her left. She let go of whatever was in her pocket – her Taser, Clint was willing to bet, and if she’d used that on Jen he would have snapped her neck himself, girl or not.

“I’m sorry,” Darcy mumbled, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I didn’t think.”

“For what it’s worth, Miss Lewis,” Clint said rather scornfully, “I never even _saw_ your iPod.” He held up a hand as Jen approached him. “Jen, I just cut a deal with your brother that I would stay away from you until we can fix this. I won’t renege now.” _No matter how much he wanted to_. His hand shook with the effort of not grabbing for her.

She stopped beyond his arm’s reach, scanning him anxiously with her eyes. “You’re all right? Your lip is bleeding. Are you hurt anywhere else? Jacques likes to go for the kidneys.”

 _Or the groin_. “I noticed, but he didn’t get a good hit in. I’m fine, Jen. Honestly.”

“Oh, Hawk…” her eyes traced his face tenderly, and she lifted a hand towards his, but didn’t quite touch him. “My Hawk.”

He smiled at her, feeling his lip split wider as he did. “I love you. I already told your brother, Steve and Natasha and I really don’t need you to hear it from one of them.”

She smiled, let out a laugh, walked right under his arm and hugged him. Gently. He felt instantly better as her hands touched his bare back, the feverish, itchy feeling receding – until she let go and stepped back. “There, I came to you, so it doesn’t count, right?” Reaching up, she kissed the side of his mouth. “Go get patched up. Come on Jane, let’s get back to the lab before Tony breaks something. Darcy, I still need those parts…” She marched from the room, the other two trailing after her, Darcy hanging her head and looking thoroughly ashamed of herself.

Steve sighed. “I’m going back to bed.”

“I’ll get back to scientist-wrangling.” Natasha paused before leaving the room. “You going to behave now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jacques said a bit shame-facedly.

“Good.” She looked at Clint. “Get patched up, and speak to Pepper. He’s fairly good and he could be a useful asset. We’re low on manpower we can trust completely. I don’t like relying on Stark Industries employees or S.H.I.E.L.D. for small jobs.”

“Wait,” Jacques said as Natasha left the room, “did she just tell you to offer me a _job_?”

“Welcome to the Avengers Initiative,” Clint said, touching his bleeding lip and wincing.

“But I’ve got two years left on my tour,” Jacques objected.

“Australia are a US ally and Pepper can pull strings to get you released to us as a technical adviser, yadda yadda yadda, welcome to the Avengers Initiative. It pays better than your average job but it can get pretty freaky.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Well, now Clint is going to get stuck with Jacques permanently ruining his fun! And he doesn’t feel at all well, either…**
> 
> **Many things will be explained in the next three chapters, I promise. Well. Partly explained ;)**
> 
> **Comments are always appreciated!**


	31. Chapter Twenty-Seven - Make It Stop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint is suffering from a mystery affliction and can't find relief. Staying away from Jen seems to be making him worse.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Addiction: The Almighty  
> Get You Through The Night: BBMak  
> Oblivion: 30 Seconds To Mars
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel owns everything. Except Jen and Jacques. They're mine.

Pepper roped Clint and Jacques into helping with her organising-things magic as soon as she found out they weren’t otherwise occupied, and Clint learned far more than he had ever wanted to about what a PA actually did. Pepper kept them busy, though, which was a good thing. Clint still didn’t seem to need to sleep, so during the day he worked his ass off for Pepper and at night he was kept busy with Bruce’s ongoing tests, gym time and range time. He felt bloody terrible, feverish and frantic with the need to be with Jen, so much so that his skin hurt all the time, but Bruce was sure it was nothing contagious, just a side-effect of whatever transformation he was going through.

His IQ had gone up again: Bruce looked the test results over with raised eyebrows and told Clint he would be pushing Tony and Jane’s scores (and Bruce’s, but the scientist didn’t mention that) shortly if the rate of increase stayed constant. Clint shrugged and pointed out that his lack of formal education meant a stratospheric IQ probably wouldn’t be much use.

Bruce snorted at that. “I retrained myself in an entirely different field after the Other Guy joined me. Formal education doesn’t mean much. Find some books in a field that interests you and start reading. I’ll give you some, if you like. Another bio-scientist around here – even someone else with some medical knowledge – wouldn’t hurt.”

Clint accepted Bruce’s offer to transfer some textbooks to a StarkSlate and promised to read them when he had time. Not that he had much of that at the moment. And he suspected bio-science wouldn’t be his thing. He was more mechanically minded. He might ask Jen to recommend some engineering texts. When he was finally allowed to fucking see her again, whenever that might be!

He always had someone with him as a minder, and JARVIS made sure his path did not cross with Jen’s. After two days without seeing her, though, Clint felt like he was going to burst out of his skin. He demanded some alone time in his suite, which was reluctantly granted after he solemnly promised not to leave via the air ducts and then Tony put devices in them all to make sure they’d know if he tried.

Clint headed straight for his bed. He couldn’t live any longer in this state. He was constantly hard. It took only a mention of Jen’s name for him to start feeling ready to explode. Stuff it: he couldn’t endanger anyone but himself by jacking off, but he _had_ to have some relief.

He stripped and flung himself down on the bed, hand curling around his rigid cock, thinking about the night he had taken Jen right here, how she had clung to him and writhed under him…

He couldn’t come. Oh God, he _couldn’t come_. He pumped furiously, almost crying with frustration, but there was no release for him, he was only making things worse. After ten minutes he gave up and almost crawled into the shower, turning it as cold as it would go, but the water only cooled his heated skin briefly, and did little to calm his raging erection.

It was Jen he craved, Jen he needed.

He was in a state of constant arousal, and then the following afternoon in the elevator he caught the faintest whiff of Jen’s scent and started sniffing frantically. Jacques, who was with him at the time, took one look and called for Bruce.

Clint came round strapped – _chained_ – down to a heavy table, with Natasha and Bruce arguing over his prone body.

“…would be kinder to sedate him…”

“Don’t know what sedatives would do, his blood chemistry is way fucked up…”

“He can’t take this much longer…”

“Should we call for Jen?”

“He might hurt her…”

“Never hurt Jen,” Clint croaked, and at once they both looked at him. Natasha’s normally inscrutable face was drawn tight with worry, and he wondered absently why having her so close to him didn’t arouse him in the slightest, whereas the mere mention of Jen’s name was enough to get him hard.

“I know you wouldn’t mean to, Clint, but you didn’t see yourself in that elevator,” Bruce said grimly. “You started throwing yourself at the doors, convinced Jen was on the other side of them. Jacques couldn’t restrain you. In the end you knocked yourself out. I think if you’d gotten to her you’d have been, well, less than gentle. I know what it’s like to genuinely believe you would never hurt someone and then the _other_ part of you takes over, Clint. I do. Please trust me.”

“So take Jen somewhere I can’t get to her,” Clint said wearily. “I’m not aroused by anyone else. Tasha’s here with her boobs practically in my face and I’m not remotely interested.” Natasha raised her eyebrows in mock offense, and then smiled to show him none was taken. He tried to smile back, but it came out a pained grimace, and she frowned worriedly again and smoothed cool fingers over his forehead.

“That might not last,” Bruce said pessimistically.

“So I get to be chained up until Thor gets back? _If_ he gets back?” Clint gazed up at the ceiling.

“If we let you loose and you raped her you’d kill yourself afterwards.” That was Natasha at her blunt best. “You weren’t _you_ in that elevator, Clint. JARVIS showed us the footage. It wasn’t pretty.”

Clint was in agony. His whole body felt overheated, his skin itched insanely – he understood the full restraints, he’d probably be tearing ribbons off himself if his hands weren’t strapped down. He tried to breathe slowly, to concentrate on something other than the pain – he’d carried on with gunshot wounds and more in times past, why couldn’t he just get through this? He felt as though he might vomit at any moment too, and yet his cock was rock-hard. Bless Tasha, she’d crumpled a sheet loosely across his middle to protect his modesty and not make it obvious.

“I fucking hate this,” he said in a low voice after a few minutes of silence between them. “I’m going to fucking kill Loki next time I see him.”

“Get in line,” Natasha and Bruce said at the same time, and then grinned at each other.

“Look, Dr Foster thinks her communication machine should be ready by tomorrow night,” Natasha stroked his brow gently with her cool hand, and he turned his face into the touch, seeking the tiny bit of relief it gave. “I can give you some relief, if you’ll let me. I know you’re not sleeping now but I can put you out with pressure on the carotid nerve, for a little while at least. You know I can do it. And we daren’t give you anything chemical.”

“Just do it.” He stared at the bright lights in the ceiling, uncaring that there were tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. “Take care of Jen for me. No matter what. Protect her – _from_ me. Promise me, Tasha!”

“I promise,” Natasha said softly, and then her thumb dug into his neck and there was only the blessed oblivion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry this chapter isn’t longer. But I was nearly in tears writing Clint in agony and couldn’t take any more! Why oh why do I do these things?**


	32. Chapter Twenty-Eight - Whatever It Takes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen refuses to let Clint suffer when she thinks she can help.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Cover My Eyes: Marillion  
> London Rain: Heather Nova  
> Fix You: Coldplay 
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters are Marvel's, with the exception of Jacques and Jen.

“Clint,” it was a soft whisper that brought him back. So many times he’d opened his eyes to bright lights, to agony, to Natasha’s face, or Bruce’s, or Steve’s, looking concerned and even frightened. They’d given up on Natasha’s pressure tricks and resorted to sedatives after he ripped free of the first lot of chains, he dimly recalled. Tony had come in and built him some much more serious bonds. He remembered Natasha, even paler than usual, telling him that Tony and Jane Foster had finally – after a couple of false starts – got the machine finished and the message sent, but they had no idea how long it would take to get a response. _If_ they would get a response.

He remembered howling at the ceiling, screaming Jen’s name until his throat was raw, jerking convulsively against his shackles until Bruce finally swore and put a needle in him. Thank God the sedatives still worked on him, though he vaguely recalled hearing Bruce telling Natasha ruefully that he’d had to use enough to put down an elephant the third – fourth? – time.

“ _Hawk_.”

“Jen,” his voice was raspy. “You mustn’t be here.” He felt strangely calm, though still burning hot and shaky. He could smell her close by, a soft, clean, summery scent. “If I hurt you…”

“Hawk, the only time you’ve been calm in the last three days is when I’ve been here.” She laid soft, blissfully cool fingers against his arm for a moment. “Don’t blame Natasha. She was desperate. She thought you were dying – so did Bruce. Tasha concluded that if you got worse the longer you were away from me, then maybe bringing me close would help. I think she’d have lubed me up herself and put me down on your dick if she thought it would have helped you.”

He could hear the laugh in her voice, but he couldn’t see anything, just blackness. A small smile curved his lips. “She probably would, too. You’re OK?”

“I’m fine.”

“I can’t see.”

“I know.” She hesitated, and he felt her fingers on his cheek. “Your eyes are covered. You wouldn’t blink and Bruce was concerned about damage to your retinae.”

“How long have I been here?”

“Nine days,” she whispered after a pause. “Oh, God, Hawk, I thought you were going to _die_.” He could hear the fear in her voice, that he might yet do so.

“If I do,” he swallowed, trying to get some moisture in his mouth, “I want you to know I loved you.”

“Don’t you _dare_ fucking die on me!” she sounded angry. And then she put a straw in his mouth. “Here. Drink. It’s water.”

He sipped gratefully. “I love you, Jen,” he said when she took the straw away. “I never wanted to hurt you. I’m so sorry I dragged you into this.”

“Please don’t apologise,” he felt her touch on his bare chest, and after a moment realised she had laid her head down on him, her hair tumbling over his arm. “The few hours I’ve spent with you have been some of the best of my life. You’re the finest, most honourable man it’s ever been my privilege to know, and the fact that you love me like that – well, I feel – _unworthy_. And if you die on me before I have the chance to really know you and love you back I am going to be _seriously_ pissed off.”

Clint could feel his body straining even though he could barely move, his hips starting to jerk as his arousal peaked. “Jen,” he choked, “you need to get Bruce to put me out again.”

“Not this time,” and she was moving. Climbing onto him, and he sucked in a breath as he felt soft bare skin move against his. “I’m done with doing this their way.”

“You mustn’t, oh my God please, please don’t stop,” as he felt her rolling a condom down over his shaft. “Jen, _please_.”

“Don’t beg,” and cool, soft lips pressed gently against his dry, cracked ones. “You don’t need to beg me, my Hawk. I want this, too.”

“I might hurt you,” with his last shred of willpower, he couldn’t make himself ask her to stop, but…

“No, you won’t.” And she eased herself gently down on him. She’d used lube, he thought, and…

No more thought.

An endless time later he whispered “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She nestled her head against his shoulder. “Your muscles have relaxed. How are you feeling?”

“Okay,” he said in some surprise, “I feel okay.”

Gentle fingers fumbled at his head, and the blindfold was removed. He blinked and the room came into focus. The lights were lowered, and Jen was naked astride him, sitting up and looking down at him with a smile on her face.

“I think you _are_ okay. I think it’s better to let this take its course, Hawk, whatever it is. It’s that or let it kill you.”

“Have my eyes changed again?” he asked dully, afraid of the answer.

“No,” she leaned on his chest for a closer look, and then kissed him. “No, they’re the same.” She smiled down at him. “I was _right_. I told Bruce he was killing you. Given the choice of being dead or being changed, I figured you’d choose changed.”

“You took a big risk.” He wanted to hold her. Wanted to pleasure her. That couldn’t have been much fun in that for her, after all; it had lasted about ten seconds. “Can you get these shackles off me?”

“No, I have to call Natasha. She insisted that she would make the final call on whether to let you out, when she agreed to let me try this my way. Bruce is asleep, by the way. He’ll probably go fucking ballistic, but we were pretty much desperate. Your temperature spiked at one hundred and nine a couple of hours ago.”

She was clambering off him as she spoke, gently removing the condom and wiping him clean with a soft cloth, draping a sheet over his hips before pulling on her clothes. He turned his head, the little he could manage, to watch her walk away to the door, and a few moments later returned with Natasha.

“You’re back with us,” Natasha looked in his eyes, and he smiled weakly at her. To his astonishment, she bent and kissed him on the forehead, tears in her eyes. Tears! _Natasha!_ “Don’t you _ever_ fucking frighten me like that again!”

“I’ll try. Get me out of here?”

She disappeared under the table, and he could hear ominous clinking and clanking noises. It took quite some work before the shackle on his left forearm released. The damn thing covered his whole forearm from wrist to elbow. He lifted his arm gingerly, flexing it. If he’d been here that long he should be numb, aching; but he felt fine. Strong. Jen took her hand in his and he pressed her fingers lightly, his eyes searching her face. She looked tired; her face a little thinner, and her eyes were red She had evidently been crying. Natasha released his right arm and he reached over to stroke Jen’s cheek.

“Don’t weep for me.” He wanted to sit up, but there was a shackle around his throat, and wide metal bands over his chest and stomach. “God. Have I hurt anyone?”

“You punched Steve,” Natasha said with a chuckle, sitting on the table next to him, and removing the throat shackle. “When you ripped out of the original restraints we had you in. Gave him a black eye, but it’s all healed up. He’s forgiven you, don’t worry. Jen, can you lift that side?”

The shackle across his chest was so heavy the two women strained to lift it together. With his hands free, Clint reached up and took it from their hands, tossing it casually to one side. Natasha froze, looking at him, and he frowned at her. “What?”

“You’re stronger,” she said quietly.

“He’s _alive_ ,” Jen turned on Natasha angrily. “And I’m _keeping_ him that way, whatever it takes!”

“Don’t say that,” finally able to sit up as the stomach shackle came away too, he reached out and tangled his fingers in her hair, drawing her close. “I won’t let you risk yourself for me.” She gave him a stubborn glare.

“You’re mine and I’m _not_ leaving you!”

Natasha smiled, circling the table and going to work on the heavy clamps over his legs. Clint shook his head at the sheer size of the bonds. It looked like Tony had taken some spare bits of Iron Man suits and bolted them down to the steel table! “A bit overkill, isn’t it?”

Natasha paused, unscrewing a massive bolt that held two hinged pieces together. She met his eyes. “No.”

Jen burrowed her head against his chest, and he hugged her, trying not to think about the implications of what Natasha had just said. “It doesn’t matter, Hawk,” Jen said quietly. “You’re back, you’re _you_ , and I will do whatever it takes to _keep_ you this way.”

Natasha and Clint looked at each other over Jen’s head, and communicated silently.

_Protect Jen. Choose her over me if that’s what it takes._

_I will but I don’t have to like it._

Their silent conversation was interrupted by a low rumble.

“What’s that?” Jen lifted her head.

Natasha’s eyes went wide. “I think – it’s thunder!” She raced to the windows at one end of the lab and pushed a button to make the covering blinds go up. It was dark outside, and there was lightning criss-crossing the sky in a jagged web, the thunder rumbling and booming as the lightning came closer. “There’s no storm predicted – it has to be Thor!”

“About fucking time,” Clint leant forward and finished letting himself out of the heavy shackles. He slid off the table, catching the sheet around his waist. “Clothes? I’d rather not meet him in a sheet.”

None of his own clothes were there. Natasha found a pair of Bruce’s sweatpants in a bottom drawer, though, and Clint sighed and dragged them on. The lightning had died down and he guessed Thor had landed, probably on top of the Tower. “Let’s go.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I couldn't take the guilt any more. Hopefully Thor will bring answers for Clint and Jen, hm? Hope you're enjoying this. Explanations are on the way!**


	33. Chapter Twenty-Nine - Some Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor didn't come alone. Loki's back, and he brings trouble. Of course. He's Loki.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Killing In The Name Of: Rage Against The Machine  
> Uninvited Guest: Marillion  
> The Unforgiven: Metallica
> 
> Disclaimer: Jen and Jacques are my own creation, but all other characters belong to Marvel.

They got out of the elevator and ran out to the rooftop to see Jane wrapped in Thor’s arms, his scarlet cape swirling around them both, and everyone else standing around looking a bit sheepish. And then Darcy stepped forward and interrupted.

“Much though I know you two lovebirds have a lot to catch up on, there’s a good man dying downstairs. Thor, Hawkeye needs your help.”

“He’s not dying,” and a tall figure Clint hadn’t spotted before stepped out from behind a stanchion. “Foolish mortals. If you’d let the transformation run its course without interference…”

Jen bolted from Clint’s side, and he was too astonished to stop her. She raced across the roof, dodging Jacques’ attempt to grab her, and leapt off the ground in a spinning roundhouse kick that connected hard with Loki’s stomach. The Asgardian stumbled back, astonished at being attacked by such a tiny mortal, and Jen followed up in close with an elbow strike to his groin that made every man present wince, and then a fast punch to the face as Loki bent forward enough for her to reach.

“You _bastard_! You nearly killed him! I’ll fucking kill _you_ …”

Steve got to Jen first, wrapping his arms around her middle and lifting her off her feet and away from Loki. She was screaming imprecations at the top of her lungs, and Loki stared at her for a moment, taking a few seconds to straighten up, his hand cupped protectively over his groin.

“Your woman, Hawk?” Loki said after a moment, lifting his eyes to look at Clint. None of the others had seemed to realise he was there yet, and they all whipped about to stare. Natasha shifted beside him, her hands moving restlessly, and Clint knew she was seconds from drawing a weapon.

“Yes,” he said, moving forward. Stepping between Loki and where Jen now sobbed, Jacques holding her tightly, shielding her from Loki’s eyes. “Yes, she’s _mine_ , Loki.” And then he doubled his fist and punched Loki in the guts himself, feeling a certain satisfaction when the god wasn’t quick enough to evade, and flew back, hitting the floor with a very satisfactory thump. “ _What the fuck did you DO to me, you bastard?_ ” he roared.

“Do not, Eyes of Hawk!” It was Thor who stopped him from following up and trying to pound Loki into dust. “He intended to help you.”

“I gave you a gift,” it took Loki a good minute to get to his feet, holding his stomach. “It was intended to be a gift, Hawk!”

“Don’t call him that!” Jen screamed at him. “Don’t _you_ call him that!”

“Agent Barton, then,” Loki shot Jen a wary look, wondering if perhaps she was a new Avenger with some fearsome as-yet-unrevealed power. Surely no _mortal_ that small would be foolish enough to attack _him_? “It was a _reward_. You served me well. I intended to make you my lieutenant, and I needed you to be stronger. You Midgardians seem to prefer to have mates, so once you chose yours, the spell would activate and you would become – more. As would your mate.”

“What?” everyone froze, and looked at Jen. Jacques looked from Loki to Clint, quite obviously undecided who he wanted to try and pound on first.

“Okay,” surprisingly, it was Bruce who took charge of the conversation. “This really isn’t a discussion we need to be having on the rooftop. Nor does _everyone_ need to be present. Let’s go talk this out in a civilised manner. Thor. Loki. Clint, Jen – and me, because I’m the doctor here. The rest of you go wait in the bar or something. Tony, can we use the boardroom?”

“You do not need me,” Thor rumbled, his eyes on Jane.

“We might, to keep these two separated,” Bruce said dryly, “while Hulk could do the job…” Loki winced, and everyone else on the rooftop smiled, “I’d rather _he_ didn’t have to come out.”

Steve and Tony both hesitated, eyes on Loki. “I want to know what _he’s_ doing here,” Tony spoke first. “Is it just to fix Hawkeye?”

“Part of his punishment is to help make amends for what he has done,” Thor rumbled. “You need not fear him, Iron Man, Captain of America. He is not a danger to our cause now.”

“Believe that when I fucking see it,” Tony muttered, but he put a hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Come on. Banner had the right idea. We’ll wait in the bar.”

Clint couldn’t like having Jen in the same room as Loki – especially as the Asgardian kept eyeing her with what looked like interest – but if this was going to affect her as well, she had a right to know. He made her sit by him on one side of the boardroom table and held firmly to her hand. She was still quivering with anger. Loki sat opposite, and Bruce at the head. Thor declined a seat and leaned against the wall behind Loki.

“Explain,” Clint said coldly. “In simple words, please. What did you do to me and where will it stop? Is it reversible?”

Loki peered at his eyes, and nodded, seemingly satisfied. “It is running its course. You should not have tried to interfere, Haw – Agent Barton,” as Jen glared at him. “And no, it cannot be reversed. Not now your eyes have changed.” He stared at Jen for a moment. “But this is your mate, and she shows no sign of the transformation, though you must have shared your seed with her. I do not understand why.”

“Condoms,” Bruce murmured. Jen blushed suddenly, and Clint understood.

“I was trying to protect her, Loki. From unwanted pregnancy, or possible disease. I did not _share my seed_ with her.”

“ _Mortals_ ,” Loki sighed in disgust, leaning back in his chair, and Thor spoke.

“Eyes of Hawk…”

“Please just call me Clint,” he interrupted.

“Clint, then. Truly, Loki never intended any harm to come to you – or your chosen mate. He expected to be able to tell you what would happen, to watch over your transformation. Asgardians do not share physical relations unless they are bonded permanently as husband and wife.”

“Married?” Bruce put in, fascinated.

“Yes, married! And so Loki did not expect you to find your chosen one so soon, nor to bond with her permanently.”

“Fair enough, mate,” Jen said after a few moments. Thor turned to her, and bowed.

“I beg your pardon, my lady, we have not yet been introduced, though I believe I heard Clint speak of you once.”

“Jen,” she said simply.

“Your Lady Jen is worthy of you, friend Clint. She is courageous indeed, to attack my brother as she did.” Thor bowed to her again, respectfully.

“Humph,” Loki said sulkily. “Stupid, maybe.” Thor whacked him across the back of the head and Loki spat something in a guttural language.

“Selfish and confident in your victory, you left your ally unaware of what would happen to him, you owe him a debt, Loki!”

Loki’s mouth twisted and he looked enraged for a moment, but then he nodded and said; “I cannot make you one of us, Agent Barton, but we long ago developed a method, a spell, to reward our most loyal Midgardian allies. You will become stronger, faster, your senses keener. You will heal more swiftly and live longer. Your intelligence will grow and no ordinary mortal will be able to stand against you. It is a gift rarely given; I honoured you; and even more so by allowing you to share the gift with your chosen mate.”

“How much more will he change?” Bruce interrupted, while Clint battled with the fact that Loki seemed to be expecting his _thanks_ , the arrogant bastard.

Loki looked Clint over with a slight sneer, and he was suddenly conscious that he was still only wearing Bruce’s ill-fitting tracksuit pants. “His eyes are changed already; though his scars are not yet healing. They probably will not disappear completely if they are old. How many times have you joined with your mate? The eyes should change after three, though it will take seven to fully complete the transformation.”

It was Jen who replied: the men were all busy glaring at Loki. “Four.”

“And he has not yet shared his seed with you?” A small smile appeared on Loki’s face. “You fool, Barton.”

Clint tensed. “Why?”

“She needs the seven times, also. Since you have wasted four, I will have to complete her transformation for you.”

It took a moment for that to sink in, and then Clint lunged to his feet and threw himself across the table at Loki. The bastard was just sitting there, smirking.

“I’ll fucking kill you if you dare lay a finger on her!”

Thor intercepted him as Loki smoothly moved back out of the way. “My brother is the God of Lies, Clint, and he lies in this matter too!” He cast a fulminating glare at Loki. “Your mate must receive your seed seven times, true, but it does not have to be the _same_ seven times that is required to activate your own powers.”

Loki shrugged, inspecting his fingernails. “That’s how it’s _normally_ done.”

“It does not have to be,” Thor turned to Clint, who was still clenching his fists, crouched atop the table and glaring at Loki. “We know this: one of our allies of old was once tricked into spilling his seed in his mate’s twin during the seventh time. His mate was still able to complete her own transformation after he shared with her once more, and her sister gained nothing for her trickery.”

Clint nodded, accepting, but his eyes were still on Loki. “I’ll kill him if he touches her,” he warned Thor.

“Threats, threats, you’re all so boring,” Loki stood up, swirling his green cloak around him. “Are we done here? Oh, and Barton? Do not wait more than a day in between times, taking your woman to your bed. I think you will not wish to become ill again.” He stalked from the room, Thor walking after him, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder.

Bruce looked at Clint and Jen. “Any questions or can I run away from the embarrassing conversation that’s about to ensue?”

“Run,” Jen said, and Bruce needed no urging to dash out and close the door behind him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Jen belting Loki for Clint is one of my favourite Jen moments. Shows just how much she cares about him, that she'd dare to assault a god. Let me know what y’all think!**


	34. Chapter Thirty - Do You Want This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen has to make a momentous decision, and she and Clint discover a few more clues to Loki's motivation.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Blood, Sweat And Tears: The Almighty  
> If You’re Not The One: Daniel Bedingfield  
> I’m In: Keith Urban
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel except my family of OC's, the Svendsons.

Clint sighed, looking at Jen, and slipped off the table. He sat back down beside her and took her hands in his, absently noting how cold they felt.

“Jen, you don’t have to do this. I’d ask you to help _me_ , if you will, but you don’t have to undergo any change yourself. I can still use condoms, and then it won’t affect you.”

She searched his face with her eyes for a moment. “But from what Thor said, it would happen anyway, if I stay with you and one day we…” she trailed off. “And what if you have a condom split?”

“It’s risky. But I love you enough to let you go, if you’re afraid. I’d never make you stay. I – from what they said, I could possibly use another woman, if it comes to that. I’m not sure I could perform if it wasn’t you, though. That – seems to be part of what it’s done to me. I don’t _want_ anyone else but you, and I don’t think I ever will.”

“I think I want to,” she whispered, and he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

“You don’t have to decide right now. We’ve got nearly a whole day, before I start to get sick again, and I can hold out longer if I need to.”

“I’ve thought of a few more questions – for Thor, anyway. He seems to know how this works and I don’t trust Loki not to lie about it.”

“He’d _certainly_ lie about it, he just tried to get me to agree to him fucking you four times!”

“Asshole,” they both said in unison.

“I’d be OK with getting some, uh, _enhancements_. Especially since they don’t seem to come with too many downsides, if I avoid getting sick like you did. But – would we have to be – well, together permanently? Effectively married? Loki and Thor both kept talking about _chosen mates_.”

Clint nodded. It was a smart question. “Let’s go find him.”

“Mm,” Jen agreed, getting up, putting her hand in his. “Ideally before Jane says something to embarrass one or both of them. I am _quite_ sure she doesn’t know about this Asgardian no-sex-outside-marriage thing, considering what she had planned for Thor when he got back.”

“Oh, no,” and Clint began to laugh, envisaging Thor’s shock if Jane attempted to jump him.

They found the other Avengers in the bar, though Jen’s brother and Darcy were fortunately absent. Thor and Jane had withdrawn to a quiet corner and were just standing holding each other’s hands, staring at each other. Jen nudged Clint as they walked over. “You talk to Thor. I need to fill Jane in.”

He nodded. Thor smiled broadly as he saw them approaching and stepped forward, his hand coming down on Clint’s still-bare shoulder. “Clint, my Lady Jane has been telling me of your illness. I am truly glad to see you on your feet and recovered.”

Jen was drawing Jane away, speaking quickly and quietly to her. Clint blocked out Jane’s startled screech of “Say _what_?” and concentrated on getting the information he needed out of Thor.

“Thor, I need to ask you – if I, um, share this _gift_ with Jen, does that mean we’re like, permanently bonded? Married?”

Thor frowned thoughtfully. “I do not know. It is rare, you understand. All those who have been given the gift, and permitted to share it with their mates, were _already_ married, or at least promised. Loki was reckless, and did not understand that Midgardians sometimes, um, change partners, in this day and age.” He was actually blushing, which Clint found rather endearing. And hysterically funny, though he tried hard not to let his amusement show in his expression.

“Clint, Loki honoured you, truly. You do not understand how much. This is not a thing done lightly. In all the centuries that we have been interacting with your kind, only twenty-three men before you have received this gift from us, and of those, only seven were permitted to share it with their wives. Many of those twenty-three men are kings and heroes in your history – Achilles, Hercules, Jason, Alexander of Macedon, Saint George – I was honoured to know only one of them personally, and he was a truly great man. My father Odin chose him to be a king among his own people, and allowed him to share the gift with his queen.”

“And who were they?” Clint was only half-listening, watching as Jen patted a rather distraught-looking Jane Foster on the back, and came back towards him.

“Arturus, and Ginevra. Or as you know them, Arthur and Guinevere.” Clint felt suddenly dizzy.

“What, Knights of the Round Table now?” Jen said jokingly as she rejoined them. “My full name is Genevieve, though, not Guinevere.”

“Guinevere, Ginevra, Genevieve,” Thor took her hand in his and bowed over it. “You remind me of her very much, Lady Jen. She was no taller than you, and every bit as courageous. Curiously, they called Arthur Pendragon the Hawk as well, Clint.”

“You _knew_ King Arthur and Queen Guinevere?” Jen’s mouth was open, and so was Jane’s. “But they’re – myths?”

“No, they were very real.” Thor smiled a little sadly. “The passage of time has twisted the truth beyond almost all recognition, but Merlin in the tales is my father Odin, and Lancelot – Loki.”

 _The queen’s would-be lover_. Clint took a tight grip on Jen’s hand as he spotted Loki watching them across the bar.

“So who were you in the Round Table legends?” Jane asked, fascinated.

“I do not know. Things I did, and deeds of the Warriors Three and Lady Sif – they are all mixed together, in tales of Gawain, Galahad, Tristan and Iseult, and many more. Loki claims Bors is based on me, the hothead who always rushed into battle even when unsure of what he faced. Perhaps he is right.”

“The Green Knight!” Jen exclaimed suddenly, looking at Loki, who raised a glass to her in salute. Clint had the horrible feeling that the bastard could hear every word of their conversation.

“One more question, Thor, and we will leave you and Jane alone.” He smiled at Jane, who was looking as though she was no longer sure that she wanted that. “What did the gift change in the women, who received it from their partners? Loki told me pretty much what will happen to me, will Jen get the same?”

Thor shrugged. “Guinevere did. The gift enhances the natural abilities you have already, Clint. It does not give you magic, or psychic abilities, or anything that you do not already have. It makes you _better_ than you are, not _different_. Arthur and Guinevere were still the same people after they changed: smarter, perhaps, wiser and more able to do what needed to be done, but their characters were the same. Truly, Loki meant to honour you.”

“You keep telling me that,” Clint said dryly, “and one day maybe I won’t feel like putting an arrow through him for it.”

“I’ll still want to kill him anyway,” Jen muttered, “I lost friends in the battle.”

Thor shook his head, and said sadly; “My brother repents, Lady Jen. Truly. He has been punished, and there is more yet to be done.”

“He looks pretty fucking fine to me for someone who’s supposed to have suffered,” Jen snapped.

“He suffered. Believe me. The passage of time can be different, when magic is applied. Loki was placed in a pocket dimension where time runs far slower, and forced to feel the agony of his victims, and the still-ongoing pain of those left behind to mourn. A thousand years locked in his own mind, sharing their suffering. He repents his actions now, I promise you.”

Jane covered her mouth in horror, her eyes brimming with tears, and Thor at once put his arm around her. “Lady Jane, do not weep. It was a just and fitting punishment, and now Loki is here, back in this time, to begin making good on the physical damage he inflicted also. Much of his magic is locked away from him without his sceptre, which my father has kept. He will have to work hard, and learn much about Midgard and humanity. It is time that he learnt this lesson, even as I had to; that his own wants cannot come first if he is ever to become a king.”

Well, it explained the new shadows in Loki’s eyes that Clint had noticed, sitting across that boardroom table from him. If the Asgardian had truly learned the consequences of his actions, well and good. But Clint would never trust him, and he would certainly never let him near Jen. He remembered only too well Loki’s prurient interest in his sexual memories. No wonder, if the bastard wasn’t getting any on his own world.

“I’m going,” he said abruptly. “Sorry, Thor, no offense, but I can’t stand to be in the same room as Loki right now. And after that stunt he tried to pull in the boardroom, I would prefer Jen not be in his presence either.”

“Damn straight,” Jen muttered.

Thor inclined his head to them both. “Of course, my friends. I will see you both soon, I hope.”

Clint grinned at him. They had spent very little time together, all in all – but he’d liked the Thunder God immensely ever since he saw him fighting his way barehanded through a camp full of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents in New Mexico to try and get his hammer back. Thor didn’t have a dishonest bone in his body. Straightforward, loyal, and reckless in his courage, Clint suspected there was no one else in the universe he’d rather have at his back in a fight. Even Natasha. She couldn’t cast lightning bolts and she certainly couldn’t trade blows with the Hulk. He’d seen the footage of the fight on the Helicarrier.

They left Jane to work out exactly what she was going to do with Thor now that her plan of jumping his bones appeared to have been thwarted, and departed the bar, unconcerned about Loki. At least for now, since he appeared to be getting a thorough interrogation from Tony, Bruce, Steve and Natasha. Clint felt Loki’s eyes on his back as they walked away to the elevators, though when he turned, Loki was looking at Jen.

“I really will kill him if he touches you,” Clint muttered as the elevator doors slid closed.

“Not before I do. Ugh,” Jen shivered. “He gives me the _creeps_.”

“Where to, sir?” JARVIS’ mellifluous voice interrupted them, and Clint realised the elevator hadn’t moved.

“Hawk’s floor,” Jen said at once.

“No, I’ll take you back to yours first…”

“No, you won’t,” she smiled up at him, easing close, reaching to put her arms around his neck. “I just got you back and I’m not leaving you alone now.”

“Er,” Clint said a bit uncomfortably, “we might have twenty-two hours or so left before I _need_ to, but that doesn’t mean I don’t _want_ to. A lot. And, er…”

“Good,” Jen said, smiling up at him. “Because I want to a lot as well. And I’ve made my decision. I’m clean, and I’ve had contraceptive injections so you can’t get me pregnant, and if this bonds us permanently together, then I can think of a lot of men I’d much less rather be married to, and no-one I’d prefer. So shut up and kiss me.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I couldn't quite resist writing in THAT conversation Jane and Thor have to have. It’ll come in as an Interlude at chapter 31a. Hope you're enjoying this, kudos is all well and good but comments do inspire writers to greater efforts... hint, hint...**


	35. Chapter Thirty-One - I Choose Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen is done with other people trying to decide what's best for her. Darcy redeems herself.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Go Your Own Way: Fleetwood Mac  
> Tonight And The Rest Of My Life: Nina Gordon  
> Accidentally In Love: Counting Crows
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel except Jacques and Jen.

JARVIS correctly interpreted that they would want to go to his apartment, and the doors opened a few seconds later. Clint and Jen nearly fell through them, clutching at each other, kissing fiercely.

“Knock it off, mate,” a deep voice rumbled.

“Oh God, not again,” Clint lifted his head to see Jen’s brother and Darcy Lewis waiting outside his door.

“I tried to talk him out of it this time, I swear!” Darcy said. “I came to try and help.” And she deliberately put herself between Clint and Jacques. “I owe you an apology,” she said over her shoulder to Clint, “and more besides. So make a move and you get a shot of this.” She pulled her trusty Taser and waved it at Jacques.

“Darce!” Jacques said, outraged. “You said you wouldn’t interfere.”

“I lied.” She smiled sweetly, and a grin slowly came across his face.

“Bad girl.”

“So punish me.”

“Maybe I will.” Jacques snapped himself out of the spell of Darcy’s flirting with an obvious effort and glared at Clint again. “Still, Barton, I can’t let you endanger Jen…”

“Enough!” Jen snapped. Pulling free of Clint’s arms, she stepped forward to face her brother, gently moving Darcy to one side. “I’m not five. Or even fifteen. I’m twenty-five and I make my own decisions.”

Jacques glared silently, his dark eyes snapping, his fists still clenched.

“And I choose _him_.”

For a long moment, there was an awful, frozen silence. And then Jacques groaned and put his arms around Jen, hugging her tightly. Darcy slipped back to stand by Clint.

“It’s gotta be a tough gig when your baby sister grows up and runs off with an Avenger,” she said sympathetically. Clint found himself smiling.

“You and Jacques, eh?” he said.

“Yeah,” Darcy gave him a slightly goofy smile. “He’s a nice guy. Not a thug.” Clint grinned at the description. She was a sweet kid really, he thought, if lacking somewhat in impulse control. Jacques would take care of her.

With his newly enhanced hearing, Clint could hear Jen murmuring reassurances to her brother, telling him that she was a big girl now and she loved him for looking out for her, but he needed to let her live her own life.

“He’s a good man. The best. And seriously, the worst that’s going to happen is that I will be smarter and stronger and better able to look out for myself, and if you don’t want that for me I will kick you in the head.”

It took a good while, but eventually Jacques let go of Jen and came over to Clint, offering his hand to shake.

“Take care of her.”

“Always,” Clint replied with total sincerity. “You take care of Darcy.”

“She’d Tase me if I didn’t. Will you put it _away_ , girl? You’re making me nervous.”

Darcy grinned, put her Taser back in her pocket and slipped her hand into Jacques’. They stepped into the still-open elevator and were gone a moment later.

And then it was just Clint and Jen, all alone in the hallway outside his room.

“Well,” Clint said after a moment when they just stared at each other, “come on in, I guess.”

The door was keyed to his fingerprint: a light brush against the panel and it swung open. Clint looked around almost curiously. He’d hardly spent any time here, and apparently for the last few days he’d been strapped to a table anyway. And then he blinked. The room looked – different. Brighter. He recognised the throw over the couch: it was the patterned one that had been in Jen’s old apartment. There were pictures up on the walls and her drafting table in the corner.

“You moved in?” he looked around, a bit bemused.

“I hope you don’t mind. I – I wanted to be close to you, and they wouldn’t let me see you, and this was the only place where I had any sense of your presence…” Jen’s words came out rushed, and he pressed a finger to her lips gently.

“Darlin’, I’m _delighted_.”

Jen smiled, her confidence restored, and ran her hands lightly up his bare chest. “Do you have any idea how distracted I’ve been, trying to think clearly and ask sensible questions when all this delicious male muscle is on display?”

Clint smirked and deliberately flexed his biceps as he raised his hands to put them on her waist. “No. Did you want to see any more?”

“All of it.” Her fingers unknotted the drawstring of his sweatpants. He’d had to cinch them in tight as Bruce apparently had a thicker waist than him and they were a bit loose. “I want to see all of you. All the scars that made you who you are, especially if Loki’s right and they’re going to fade. I want you to tell me about them, Hawk.” She smiled up at him, and he caught his breath at the sultry promise in her curved lips. “ _Later_.” And she sank to her knees in front of him, pushing the sweatpants down, and took his arousal in her hands, leaning forward and licking lightly at his tip.

“Ahhh,” his head tipped back, and he had to put one hand on the wall beside him to brace himself. “ _Jen_.” Her mouth was hot and clever, light licks and sucks at first, and then she took his cock deep into her throat, her cheeks hollowing. “Jeez, you need to stop or I’m not gonna be able to give you any fun. Again,” he choked out, though he was seeing stars behind closed eyelids.

“You don’t like it?” she almost pouted. Licking him like he was the most delicious ice cream and she wanted to savour every bit.

“Oh, I like it. But your mouth isn’t where I want to come right now.” Very reluctantly, he drew back from her, and stooped, catching her under the arms and raising her to stand. “Beautiful woman. How come I’m naked and you’re still fully dressed?”

She grinned cheekily at him. “No change there from the last few days, Hawk.”

He grimaced, not particularly wanting to be reminded of that, and kicked off the sweatpants tangled around his ankles. “Well, then, I demand equality. I want hours of getting to look at you in the nude. I still haven’t mapped every inch of this delectable body of yours.”

Jen smiled, stepped into him, and pushed him on the chest. “Sit down then, lover. I’ll give you a nice thorough unveiling.”

 _Does she mean a striptease? Please let her mean a striptease_. Clint let Jen push him back to sit down on the couch, running his eyes over her hungrily. She was wearing those old, soft blue jeans he adored on her, cute black boots with a little heel, and a dark brown suede jacket over a pale green tank top. Her hair was pulled up in that tight French braid she usually wore, though it was beginning to escape around the edges. She wore very little makeup, if any, he thought. Indeed, he’d never seen her with much makeup. She didn’t need it, her skin was pale and near-flawless, her lashes thick and dark, her blue eyes striking without the need for enhancement.

She was lovely. And she was _his_. He could hardly breathe with the need to grab her, to take her, but he had to let Jen do this her way.

 

 


	36. Chapter 31a - Thor/Jane Interlude 1 - THAT Conversation.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, so we’re already AU for Thor 2. Most of that movie will still happen later in this universe. But obviously not the reunion scene 
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except my Svendson family of OCs.

_What the hell do you say to the Asgardian god you’re obsessed with when you’ve just found out he very likely has absolutely no intention of banging your brains out as you’d hoped?_ It was a difficult question for Jane Foster, and she wasn’t accustomed to difficult questions that had nothing to do with astrophysics. So she stood and shifted from foot to foot uncomfortably, unable to meet Thor’s eyes. Jen had been fast, discreet and succinct getting her information across.

“Thor says they don’t go in for extra-marital sex on Asgard,” the smaller woman said quietly, meeting Jane’s eyes squarely. “You might need to change those plans you and Darcy were giggling about.”

It took Jane a moment to process, the words seemed so unlikely, and then she screeched “Say _what_?” in a voice so loud everyone looked at her. And that bastard Loki _smirked_ at her across the room. Honestly, if Jen and Clint hadn’t already smacked him, she’d go right over there and do it herself. Maybe she should anyway, he was still owed one for Erik Selvig, in her opinion. On the other hand – he was a scary bastard. Maybe not.

Thor gave her a concerned look, and she did her best to smile at him reassuringly, all the while running over their past interactions in her mind. He’d made his interest clear with his looks, his protective attitude towards her, but he’d never made any sort of move until he and his friends were on their way back to Asgard. And then he’d only told her that he would come back for her, and kissed her hand. It was Jane who had thrown herself at him and kissed him – and he had looked really quite startled.

He’d kissed her back very satisfactorily, though. The memory of his warm mouth on hers had sustained her through the long, lonely nights since. The strength of his arms holding her off her feet, his strange armour pressed against her as she clung to him; those were the sensations that had stayed with her.

Jane found herself blushing as she remembered that kiss. And curiously, Thor was blushing too, as he talked to Barton. And then Jen and Clint were walking away, leaving Thor and Jane staring at each other across a distance that seemed almost as long as the damned Bifrost was reputed to be.

“I want – to be somewhere private with you,” Thor said at the same moment as Jane said;

“Let’s get out of here.”

Except, where the hell was she going to take him? Her apartment was obviously out of the question. If she invited him there she’d feel like she was declaring herself a whore, and – well, she didn’t want to be that to _him_. The lab, she decided. No, the gym. She’d started building a new machine there, as Tony had a terrible habit of pulling apart and ‘improving’ everything she built in her lab.

“Come on, then,” she beckoned. She really didn’t intend to offer her hand, but somehow it was clasped securely in his massive one anyway. She shied a nervous look at him. Somehow he seemed even bigger than she remembered, absolutely towering over her.

If she’d been tall enough, Jane would have disconnected the speaker in the elevator through which JARVIS promptly started playing smoochy music when they got in. Instead she shot it a dagger look and the music at once became subtly quieter. The elevator got to the gym in double-quick time – JARVIS had learned to be wary of Jane and her penchant for disassembling things that annoyed her – and stepped out into the darkened room. Jane was about to tell JARVIS to turn the lights up when Thor dropped his hammer on the floor – oh dear, that was going to leave a dent – and pulled on her hand, turning her to face him, lifted her clean off her feet and started kissing her as though the world was going to end.

For several minutes Jane lost track of absolutely everything but the feeling of Thor’s mouth against hers, his huge arms curving protectively around her, his thick golden hair under her hands…

Right, time to stop this.

Well, maybe a bit later…

In the end it was Thor who drew back first, setting her gently down on her feet, and then dropping gracefully – dammit, the man – god – did _everything_ gracefully – to one knee and pressing his lips against her hand.

“Forgive me, my lady.”

“Er – what for? I already forgave you for disappearing when I got the letter you left with Steve to give to me.” It had been ADORABLE, and explained everything, from the shattering of the Bifrost, to Loki’s disappearance, to his fear that she might somehow become caught up in the mess that was New York or targeted by Loki, to his asking Steve and Tony to protect her afterwards.

“For – dishonouring you. For _thinking_ of dishonouring you.” He cast those stunning blue eyes downwards, looking ashamed of himself. “I should not have touched you so.”

“Oh, Thor, no,” he looked even more distressed, and she promptly went to her own knees. “That’s not what I meant! I meant – I wanted you to. Maybe even more than you did.” She put her finger under his chin, and he let her lift his face to meet her eyes. “For almost two years, I’ve dreamed of nothing but being with you,” she whispered. “In every way. I – Jen told me that you said that Asgardians don’t have physical relations outside of marriage,” she was proud of having managed that without using the word _sex_. “But you should know that on Midgard, most people choose not to wait, they choose to test their relationship first by finding out if they’re physically compatible.”

 _Damn, that was a smart speech_. It gave her an out for having shagged a fair few guys. And it also gave her and Thor an excuse to find out if they were _physically compatible_.

“I suppose – there is a great discrepancy in your size and mine,” Thor mused. “You fear that I would hurt you?”

Jane stifled a laugh. “Not on purpose, and not unless your physiology is different from that of a human man,” she assured Thor, who promptly blushed while shaking his head. “No, I mean – oh, hell, this is really embarrassing.”

“Then let us not speak of it,” Thor said promptly, “I would not for a moment have you suffer any kind of discomfort on my behalf!”

“No, we need to have this talk. When I say compatible, I mean there are things that some people like to do in bed that others don’t.”

Thor only looked more adorably confused, and Jane had a sudden thought. “Wait. You’ve never been married?”

He shook his head with an affronted look.

“You’re a _VIRGIN_?” she hadn’t intended to shout the word, but somehow it seemed to echo around the gym.

“If you mean, have I ever lain with a woman, no, I have not,” he said a bit stiffly, his cheeks flushed red. And then his eyes widened. “But you have lain with other men.” It wasn’t a question.

Jane flushed to the roots of her hair. “Yes,” she admitted, unable to look at him. “I have.”

“I see.” He turned away, ran a hand through his hair distractedly, paced a few strides away from her. “The – Donald Blake, whose clothes you once gave me. He was one such?”

“Yes.” Jane had never felt such deep, scalding shame. Not even when her mother caught her necking with her first boyfriend. “Thor, I wish I hadn’t. I wish our customs were the same as yours, because if they were I would have waited for you.” She was on the verge of tears.

Thor turned back, the desperate look in his blue eyes piercing her to the heart. “Jane. My lady. It is not that. I feel – I fear that you may find _me_ lacking.”

“In what possible way?” Utterly bemused, Jane stared at him.

“In that I lack the training to please you. I – I _love_ you, my lady Jane. There has never been another maiden, in all my years, whom I wanted to be with. Until _you_. I would do _anything_ for you. And now you tell me that we must test first, before you choose me, and I have no skills, no training with which to pass your test, and I shall surely fail.” He looked completely distraught.

 _What in the Nine Worlds could she_ possibly _say to_ that _?_ Jane wondered, staring at him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: I TOTALLY intended to write this scene as a comedy. And then I ended up with pathos and oh my god THOR. Just. WHOAH. There'll be another interlude once I get over wanting to hug him and make it all better. Dammit Thor why did you have to go all honourable and noble and totally take over my comic relief scene???**


	37. Chapter Thirty-Two - Hurt You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return of the smutty smut smut :)
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Angel In Blue Jeans: Train  
> Halfway Gone: Lifehouse  
> The Edge Of Glory: Lady GaGa
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except Jacques, Jen and their family.

Jen was a little bit nervous about stripping for Hawk – it wasn’t something she’d ever done before – but the look on his face told her that pretty much anything she might do that involved her getting naked would be fine in his book. She walked across the room away from him, deliberately putting a little extra swing in her hips, and stopped at her stereo. She put her flashy new Starkphone – her old iPhone hadn’t survived a day after meeting Tony – into the dock and selected a playlist she’d made for Hawk.

A moment later music filled the room, and she nodded to herself, dimmed the lights, and walked back towards the man on the couch. He sat waiting for her, nude, clearly aroused and totally unself-conscious about it.

Jen stopped in front of Clint and turned to face away from him. Deliberately, she bent over to unzip her boots, and heard his indrawn breath as she pretty much stuck her butt in his face. His hands landed on her hips, and she straightened up, turning around, shaking her finger at him.

“No grabbing, Hawk. I’ll tell you when you’re allowed to touch.” For a moment she thought he was going to protest and just pull her into his arms, but then he sighed and tucked his hands under his thighs.

“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

She smiled, turning around again. “That would spoil all the fun.”

“Bet it wouldn’t,” he muttered.

“Shush and enjoy it.” Barefoot now, she turned back to him, nudged his knees apart and stood between them. “What would you like me to show you next, hero?”

“Take your hair down for me, darlin’,” he said huskily, surprising her. She smiled, pulled the tie from the end of the braid, and unwound it slowly, shaking the long, wavy strands loose, massaging her scalp lightly and leaning forward so her hair tumbled over his shoulder and against his chest. “I love your hair,” he muttered throatily, rubbing his face against it. “Please don’t ever cut it short.”

Jen smiled, tossing her hair back to fall down her back. “Not it you don’t want me to.” Her jacket was already unbuttoned, but she eased it slowly back over her shoulders and down her arms before dropping it to the floor. Clint followed every movement with his eyes, though his hands stayed firmly planted. His lips were slightly parted, and he licked them as she crossed her hands at the hem of her shirt. She moved slowly to lift the top up, one tantalising inch at a time, and pulled it off over her head slowly, shaking her hair free of it and throwing it after her jacket.

“Damn, you do have some nice lingerie,” Clint murmured, feasting his eyes. The bra this time was a push-up, dark green satin, lifting her breasts temptingly towards his mouth. He leant forward eagerly and she laid her finger on his nose.

“No hands and no mouth. Until I tell you.”

He snapped teasingly at her finger, and she grinned. “You can bite me later.” Stepping back from him a little, she unfastened her jeans.

“And don’t throw those jeans away _ever_ ,” Clint muttered. His tongue felt thick in his mouth as she eased the tight jeans down over her thighs, revealing thong panties that matched the green satin bra. Jen shimmied out of the jeans completely, and he was totally unaware that he was actually straining like a dog at a leash to get to her, his hands pinned under his legs by willpower alone.

Jen saw the need on Clint’s face, and, taking pity on him, she turned sideways and seated herself lightly on his knee. “I think it would be all right if you touched me now,” she whispered into his ear.

“Oh God, _thank you_ ,” and his arms came around her hard, dragging her against him. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he muttered, just before his mouth crashed down on hers.

Jen kissed him back eagerly. He always tasted so good, uniquely himself, and his mouth was hot and demanding, his kisses making her tremble inside. His hands were on her breasts, finding the front catch of the bra and popping it free, then moulding and plumping them in his big hands, teasing her pouting nipples until she moaned deep in her throat. Her own hands weren’t idle, stroking at his powerful shoulders, caressing his neck, scratching lightly over massive pectoral muscles. He liked to be scratched, she decided as she felt him shudder, liked a little pain with his pleasure. So she pulled her mouth free of his and ran her lips down his strong throat until she found the soft spot just above his collarbone – and bit him hard.

“Fuck yeah!” Clint’s hips jerked upwards, but his hands didn’t cease their movements on her breasts. Jen selected another spot just below his ear and sucked on it, using her teeth to nip at him, hearing his breathing become increasingly ragged.

“You like that, Hawk?” she whispered, nibbling at his earlobe.

“Yeah,” he moaned it as she scratched deliberately at his shoulders. Her nails were a little longer than usual – long nails were impractical with her work, but she hadn’t had time to cut them for a few days – and Jen thought that she would keep them a little bit longer, if Hawk liked a bit of pain. His reactions to what she was doing were certainly pleasing. He was fiercely aroused, she could feel him against her hip, a little wet where a drop of pre-cum was leaking from his tip. She put her hand down and dragged her fingertips across the thick, swollen head, spreading moisture downwards, and heard a low groan rumble deep in his chest.

“Jen,” Clint mumbled, barely able to think. “Do you – do you want me to get a condom?” He plucked at her panties, drawing them down her thighs. She moved to let him take them off, dropping them to the floor and kicking them away.

“No,” she said quietly, reaching to kiss him again. “No, we don’t need one.”

“You sure?” he forced his eyes open and looked at her. She gave him that quirky little smile of hers, and moved, pushing his knees together and straddling him.

“I’m sure.”

She was already wet for him. Her panties had been damn near soaked, and now they were gone he could feel her cleft moist against him as she ground herself lightly against his shaft. He tried to put his hand on her, to stroke her, but she took his hand and put it on her hip.

“There,” she whispered, grabbing his other hand and putting it on the opposite hip. “Hold me there, Hawk.” And she took his cock in her own hands, lifting her hips and easing herself down on him.

“Oh, fuuuuck,” Clint threw his head back against the couch, his eyes closed, teeth clenched. Hanging on to Jen like this, it would have been so easy just to grip hard and hammer up into her, but despite her wetness she was So. Damn. _Tight_. So wet and just so incredible without that thin latex barrier between them, an order of magnitude more sensation overwhelming his senses entirely.

He was unaware that he was hanging on to her hips hard enough that his fingertips would leave bruises, but right then so was Jen. Finally she had him fully inside her and settled her butt lightly on his thighs, leaning forward to stroke her breasts against his chest, nibbling his earlobe again.

“Did you know,” she murmured in his ear, in an apparent non-sequitur, “that I grew up on a farm?”

“Huh? No,” he mumbled, bemused.

“With horses.”

“Wh…” and then he realised what she meant, as she flexed her thighs and began to move against him, _riding_ him at a fast trot, her hands on his shoulders, fingertips digging in firmly.

He was gonna go off without pleasuring her again if he didn’t do something quickly, so he tipped her back suddenly, disrupting her rhythm, one arm coming up behind her back to hold her, and seized a nipple in his mouth, sucking hard. The other hand dropped in between them, fingers rubbing at her clit, circling and chafing. Jen moaned, trying to ride him still, but the sensations he was creating made it impossible for her to concentrate and she could only jerk against him disjointedly.

Clint rocked his own hips against Jen, feeling her begin to tremble. He let her nipple out of his mouth and kissed up her throat. “I’m close, Jen, come with me,” he breathed against her ear. “Let me feel you. You get so tight when you come. I want to feel you…”

“Oh, Hawwwwk…” she called out for him in one long, drawn-out scream, and he groaned and bucked his hips as a ripple of contractions inside her dragged him over the edge.

They cried out, straining together, for endless, glorious moments, and then Jen slowly collapsed against Clint, laying her head on his shoulder. He folded his arms around her and held her against him, still breathing hard, his mind all but blank.

“No wonder you fell in love with me, if it’s been like that for you since the first time,” Jen mumbled after a minute. “I thought you were pretty amazing before but _that_ …”

“Let me see your eyes,” he asked softly, wondering what change would come across them. They hadn’t really known to look at his between the first and second times.

Jen lifted her head and looked at him. Her eyes were still just as blue, but now there were tiny silver flecks floating in them, radiating out from the pupil.

“Pretty,” he murmured, “you’ve got little silver flecks in your eyes.”

She smiled, but she was looking down at his ribs. He looked down too, to see her fingers tracing over the three old bullet scars. They were definitely fading, the white skin flatter and less ridged. Some of his other scars were smaller too, the more recent ones no longer red-edged.

“I want to hear the stories of these, in case they disappear,” Jen said, tracing her fingers over a few scars, before nestling her head on his shoulder again. “That is, if you don’t mind telling me?”

“I don’t mind. Those three are bullet holes are from when Natasha shot me in Budapest…”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Sorry. Couldn’t resist the Budapest reference!**


	38. Chapter 32a - Thor and Jane Interlude 2 - What Happens On Midgard...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor is so cute, Jane just can't stand it.
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own everything. Except my family of OC's.

Jane stared at Thor for long moments in silence. He was quite evidently in earnest about fearing he would be unable to pass her ‘test’; she’d never heard him speak an insincere or untrue word yet, unlike Loki, she suspected Thor was pretty much incapable of deceit or deception.

“Thor,” she said softly, moving closer to him, reaching to put her hand on his arm, “it’s not a one-chance-only test. There’s plenty of time. The first time might not be good for either of us, but like anything else, it gets better with practice. And even so, loving someone else isn’t all about sex. It’s about caring, about showing someone how much they matter to you.”

“I would see the Nine Realms burn for you,” he said softly, gazing down into her eyes, “and count them well lost.”

Jane smiled in an attempt at levity. “And bonus points for Thor, for being impossibly romantic.”

He obviously figured out that she was joking, because he reached out and pulled her closer to him, pressing her head against his shoulder. Oh, all right, chest; she didn’t reach his shoulder. “Romance, I can give you. I think I have read every romantic tale in the royal library in the last year, hoping to learn how I should woo you. I have asked Heimdall the Gatekeeper, who sees all, the ways in which Midgardian males successfully court their mates. From him I have learned some of your customs regarding courtship.” Almost shyly he smiled, and unlaced a pouch secured at his waist, opening the strings and tipping something out into his hand. “I believe it is customary to offer a ring as a token of regard?”

Jane’s eyes widened as he offered her the ring. It was a deceptively simple, delicate design of some white metal – platinum, maybe? But topped with the most exquisite, unusual gemstone she had ever seen, opalescent white with rainbow colours shimmering through it.

“What _is_ it?” she asked, almost afraid to touch. It looked suspiciously magical: she could even see tiny runes engraved on the ring band’s inner surface.

“The ring is made from fragments of the star-metal from which Mjolnir was forged. And the stone is a polished chip of the broken Bifrost. I thought it appropriate for us, my lady of the stars.”

“What do the runes say?” she asked, reaching very tentatively for the ring. Thor allowed her to take it in her fingers, examining the exquisite craftsmanship. It felt surprisingly heavy for a delicate-looking piece. But then, considering what it was made of…

He coughed, and when she looked up at him, she saw his cheeks had flushed ruddy again. But he didn’t seem able to lie to her, and when she nudged him gently and repeated her question, he muttered under his breath – quite loudly enough for her to hear – “They say that the wearer of this ring is beloved of Thor, God of Thunder. And that you are under my protection. It is magical; even those without magic will be wary of attacking you, though they will not comprehend why.”

 _Invisible bad-guy repellent?_ Jane couldn’t help but smile at the thought. “How did you get it – did Loki make it?” Suddenly she didn’t want anything to do with it.

“No,” Thor shook his head. “My mother did.”

Jane’s eyes widened. “Your _mother_ knows about me?”

“Lady Jane, it was very evident that I had changed in many ways after my return from Midgard. My mother is astute; little escapes her notice. All she had to do was speak to Heimdall and ask him who it was I asked him to look for, every day without fail, to be sure that she was safe.”

“Oh,” she blushed, a little. And then tried the ring on, on the ring finger on her right hand. It looked beautiful on her finger, the rainbow lights in the stone glowing in the dim room. “Thank you,” she said softly, turning her eyes back up to Thor. “It’s the most beautiful thing anyone’s ever given me.”

He smiled, on safer ground, and hugged her close to him. “You will wear it, as a token of my regard?”

“I should be happy to.” Jane took a deep breath, thinking hard about what she wanted to say. “Thor – there’s no rush. We don’t have to jump into bed straight away. I know things are different on Asgard and I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do…” suddenly, it struck her that she was playing out a role-reversal, and had to stop talking and choke down giggles.

“Oh, I want _many_ things, my Lady Jane,” Thor rumbled, stroking a gentle finger down her cheek, pausing at her lips, and Jane lost all urge to laugh. “But taking what I want from you would be a dishonourable act.”

“On Asgard,” Jane had to swallow, take a deep breath and swallow again before she managed to get those words out. “On _Asgard_ , it might be. But we’re on Earth. Midgard. We have a saying here. ‘What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas.’ Perhaps we can adapt it for you. What happens on Midgard, _stays on Midgard_. No one on Asgard needs to know about it.”

Thor began to smile, slowly. “Indeed. I believe I like this ‘saying’ of yours. Although,” he looked thoughtful, “perhaps it is best not to share it with Loki.”

“Perhaps not,” Jane agreed, not even having to think about it. She couldn’t seem to stop tracing her hands over Thor’s chest, magnificently defined by his leather body armour.

“My lady,” Thor said almost breathlessly, staying her hand with his, “if we are not to rush physical intimacy between us, it would be best that you not touch me in that way.”

Jane smiled up at him. “But this is _such_ a good look on you,” she purred, and he sighed.

“Perhaps if I put on Midgardian – Earth – clothes, you will be able to keep your hands to yourself?” he suggested.

“I doubt it. But it’s worth a try,” Jane riposted cheekily, and Thor laughed softly.

“Come, my love. It is best for us not to be alone together just yet, I think. Show me this Tower of the Avengers that Anthony Stark has made for us.”

Jane sighed and put her hand into Thor’s. “Well, to begin with, he has prepared special suites for each current member of the Avengers, plus extras in case of new members to come,” she began, leading him back towards the elevators.

Mjolnir was abandoned in the middle of the gym, forgotten. Until they reached the elevator and Thor suddenly realised what he was missing. He turned and held out his hand, and the hammer came flying into it as gratefully as a neglected puppy. Jane smiled and moved closer to him, resting her head against his massive shoulder. Oh, all right. Bicep.

“Sixty-nine, please, JARVIS,” she said, knowing where Thor’s assigned apartment was. And then suddenly blushing fire-red, much to the Thunder God’s bemusement.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **SO. DAMN. CUTE!**
> 
> **I just want you all to know that I did try REALLY REALLY HARD to write the Thor/Jane bits as comic relief. But I don’t do comedy very well – not in whole scenes. I throw in occasional one-liners for a giggle and the odd bit of witty repartee.**
> 
> **But apparently I am EXTREMELY good at making people go AWWWWWW!!!**
> 
> **I’m not planning on writing another Thor/Jane interlude. These bits may get extracted later and turned into a story of their own, so subscribe to me as a writer if you’d like to see that happen.**
> 
> **And as always, I love to hear your comments!**


	39. Chapter Thirty-Three - Sleep Without Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint discovers that while he was ill, Jen has managed to work her way into the hearts of the whole Tower team.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Forever: Tina Cousins  
> Heaven: Live  
> Georgia Rain: Joshua Kadison
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except the Svendson siblings.

Clint and Jen talked for a long time, and then decided to go shower and find some food. Understandably, Clint was hungry, having been receiving nutrition via IV line for the last week and more. JARVIS had pizza delivered, although Jen said firmly that she would cook for him tomorrow.

“There’s a communal kitchen three floors down from here,” she said, “I’ve been making meals for most everyone. Jane Foster is impossible, that woman would live on PopTarts and Darcy would let her!”

Clint grinned, tucking into pizza. “You cook?” he asked, after swallowing.

“Hell yes,” Jen lifted her chin proudly. “And so can my brother. My mum is very equal-opportunity,” she said when he looked surprised, “and considering the appetite my brother and father have, there was no way that the women in the family were going to get stuck with all the cooking!”

Clint chuckled. “I didn’t know that about Jacques, but then considering we were all living on Army MRE’s in those caves in Afghanistan, I don’t suppose he had much opportunity to demonstrate.”

“I do cook better than him,” Jen said, “simply because I actually like cooking. I tend to recruit him for chopping and for washing-up. Although Natasha is very good with a chef’s knife as well. Unsurprisingly.”

Clint almost choked with laughter on that one, just imagining Jen roping Natasha into helping her in the kitchen. “I hope you didn’t ask her to cook anything? She can burn toast beyond recognition.”

“I noticed. No, I just gave her the knife. She tends to dice everything into very, very tiny pieces, though.”

This time Clint did choke. Jen grinned at him over the rim of her wineglass. Somehow his fridge – which he previously hadn’t actually used for anything but beer – was now stocked with wine, fruit and yogurt.

“Are you tired?” Clint asked when they finished eating. Jen looked thoughtful, and shook her head.

“No. Did you stop sleeping after the first time?”

“It was after the second time, if you recall. There wasn’t much time to be doing any sleeping in between.”

She laughed, and blushed a bit. “I feel like I _could_ sleep. But I don’t feel tired.”

“That’s how I felt. I never really did lie down and try to rest, though. Perhaps we should, later.”

“Quite a lot later.” Jen smirked at him, stood up from her seat and sat down on his lap. She was wearing her dark red silk kimono again. He’d pulled on a pair of running shorts, and all that delicious male muscle on display had been distracting her throughout dinner. While he had been an amazing, considerate lover before, now that they had made love without using a condom she felt as though she couldn’t get enough of him. Her skin almost itched with the need to be in contact with his, and the longer she stayed away from him the worse it got.

 _No wonder he had become ill and delirious_ , Jen thought, settling herself comfortably on Clint’s lap with her arms around his neck. As soon as she touched him the itchy feeling eased. He too let out a sigh that sounded like relief and put his arms around her.

“Do you think this feeling will stop after the seventh time?” Jen asked shyly.

“The feeling that my skin is trying to crawl off my bones to get to you? I dunno. Might be difficult out on missions if it doesn’t, distracting, so I would think if probably will. Don’t worry, though,” he brushed her brow with his lips. “You can be as close to me as you want until we’ve taken care of _your_ seventh time.”

Content now that she was touching him, Jen reached for another slice of pizza. They shared it, and afterwards Clint took her hand in his and licked her fingertips clean, slow and erotic.

Jen sighed, looking up at him through lowered lashes. “Take me to bed, stud,” she said in a deliberately husky voice, and Clint chuckled, albeit a little hoarsely.

“Anything my lady desires.” He put a hand behind her knees and stood, lifting her easily, carrying her through to his bedroom. She had made a few changes in here too, he saw: there was a new dresser against one wall with a few of her things on it. And a T-shirt – one of his – folded on one of the bed’s pillows. He frowned at it curiously.

Jen followed his gaze and buried her face in his neck bashfully. “I like wearing your T-shirts to sleep in,” she mumbled.

He smiled, absurdly pleased. “You can steal anything of mine you want, darlin’. I bet you look awesome in my shirt.”

“I look ridiculous,” she giggled as he laid her down on the bed, “the shoulder seams come to my elbows and the hem nearly to my knees!”

“Show me,” Clint grinned, undoing the belt of her kimono and handing her the folded T-shirt. She rolled her eyes but scrambled off the bed, put the kimono on her dresser and pulled the T-shirt on. He sat down on the edge of the bed to look at her.

She looked as ridiculous as she suggested; like a child playing dress-ups. Except her breasts pushed full against the soft fabric, and he could see her nipples hard and aroused. The thought of her sleeping in his shirt, in his bed, surrounded by his scent and his belongings, made him feel warm and contented inside, as though she was deliberately acknowledging that she belonged to him.

“You look sexy as hell,” he ran his hands up her thighs to her butt, “feel free to wear my clothes whenever you like. Now come here and let me take it off you.”

She lifted her hands obligingly, standing there between his knees, and he took the T-shirt off over her head. Of course with her hands up like that her breasts looked delicious, and were just at mouth height, so he had to have a taste.

“Mm. God, you’ve got fabulous boobs.” She wasn’t out of proportion for her small frame, but she hadn’t got two fried eggs either. There was definitely a pleasant handful for him to play with.

She laughed huskily, burrowing her hands into his hair and silently encouraging him to continue, so he did, one big hand at the small of her back holding her close, the other sliding between her thighs to fondle gently. Jen moaned and shivered, moving her feet apart to give him greater access as he teased her clit lightly with his thumb, fingers exploring, finding that she was already wet for him. He drove two fingers deep, slowly and remorselessly finger-fucking her even as his mouth drew hard on one flushed, pouting nipple.

“Oh, Hawk, yes,” Jen moaned. Her knees were trembling and she could barely hold herself up; his thumb rubbing on her clit even as hard, calloused fingers pumped deep inside her combined with his mouth tugging at her nipple to push her close to the edge quickly. “That feels so goood…” she tugged at his hair deliberately, and when her nipple slid from his mouth with a wet pop, bent to kiss him.

“I wanna watch you come,” he whispered to her.

“I want you inside me when I do,” she whispered back, and he grinned, taking his hand from her and pulling her down to the bed beside him.

“Hell yeah, sounds good to me!” Quickly, he wriggled out of his shorts, and turned back to her waiting arms.

She was getting used to his size, Jen thought: Clint was definitely on the larger side and the first couple of times with him had verged on uncomfortable, although she had been aroused enough not to care. But now her body welcomed his possession; she threw her head back and moaned as he slid deep within her.

“You okay, darlin’?” Clint gritted out when she closed her eyes.

“Much better than okay,” she smiled dreamily. How she loved it when he called her _darlin’_ in that husky voice, his Midwestern roots showing when he lost himself in passion.

“Glad to hear it.” He kissed her, shifting his hips, hands on her knees adjusting her until he found just that right spot that made her quiver, and then he began to pump, slow at first, and then accelerating to a fast, rocking rhythm until she cried out, _yes, oh Hawk, there, please, don’t stop oh pleeease…_

He couldn’t have stopped with a gun to his head, so he carried on, right up until the moment that she clenched and convulsed around him, her nails scoring at his shoulders, and he let out a low groan and spilled inside her, warm wet muscles milking him for every last drop.

They lay curled together companiably for a long while. Clint asked Jen about her childhood, and she told him about growing up on a small farm a little ways north of Perth while her father was in the military, and then when he got out a few years after Desert Storm they moved to Coober Pedy, the strange little Outback town where he’d been raised, and mined for opals.

“ _Opals_?” Clint said, astonished, and Jen told him that her mother was a jeweller, a renowned one actually, her one-of-a-kind pieces fetching thousands of dollars each and very much sought after.

“It’s where we learned to handle explosives,” it was late in the night. Jen was lying curled up beside Clint, her head pillowed on his bicep. “Coober Pedy is in the desert and it’s so freaking hot there, a lot of the earlier residents moved underground, into the caves and mines they’d dug looking for opal. Now there’s power and aircon plenty of people live overground too, but there are always folks digging new caves, and my dad is the best blaster in the business. He taught us everything he knows.”

“You as well as your brother?”

“Sure. I can get into tight spots he and Dad can’t, you know. It’s why I went to study materials science at university; though I decided to add civil engineering later. I’m better at blowing things up than knocking them down.”

“Tony Stark must absolutely _adore_ you.”

Jen giggled at that. “He _did_ ask me to marry him a few days ago. I told him I was too scared of Pepper. Hawk, don’t be an idiot, it was a _joke_ ,” as she saw the insecure look on his face. “Tony Stark is brilliant and absolutely fucking bonkers. I’d booby-trap his suit if I had to be with him. And besides,” she ran her fingers lightly over his six-pack, “He’s not my type. I like muscular, quiet blond guys.”

“Like Steve?” Clint muttered, feeling insecure still. It was hard for him to believe that a girl like Jen, pretty, clever, _normal_ – could want _him_ , with his wrecked past and uncertain future.

Jen looked startled, and then shook her head. “No, like _you_. Steve’s sweet, but he’s totally gone on Natasha anyway. And he doesn’t have your smart mouth or – he just doesn’t do anything for me. Even when I was trapped in that elevator watching the battle, it was _you_ I saw. One all-too-human man, using a _bow_ of all the crazy things, but every arrow you fired one of those _things_ died.” Her fingers traced his jaw gently. “And then I met you and I realised you were much more than the marksman who never misses his shot. You’re honest and kind; you made me no false promises. Do you remember? You said you couldn’t promise to get me out but you’d kill that alien for me. And you did.”

Clint still didn’t like thinking about the battle, the sheer craziness and frenzied panic of it. When he did, he tried to focus on the few minutes he’d spent with Jen. The seconds when they’d kissed, when he held her and she cried in his arms. He sighed and hugged her closer. “I’ll never make you a promise I’m not sure I can keep.”

“I know,” she said, with a calm confidence that made him feel warm through.

Somewhat to his surprise, Clint felt his eyelids drifting. “Are you tired?” he asked.

Jen considered. “No. But I think I could sleep. You?”

“I think I could sleep too. Let’s try.” For some reason he was confident that the nightmares would stay away, that even if he did sleep beside her, he wouldn’t wake up screaming. Jen snuggled down against him and Clint sighed contentedly and closed his eyes.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **I’ve had one or two questions about the ring Thor gave Jane. It wasn’t intended as an engagement ring (Thor slightly misunderstood why rings are generally given) and Jane was smart enough to realise that, which is why she put it on her _right_ hand. As for getting one like this for yourself, well I can’t help you with the Mjolnir star-metal, but some Australian white opals have rainbow opalescence and look, to me, like the Bifrost did in the movies ** **J**
> 
> **Also, Coober Pedy really exists and is TOTALLY fascinating. Check it out!**


	40. Chapter Thirty-Four - Obsession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki acts weird, even for Loki, and Jane gives Clint a warning.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Romeo and Juliet: Dire Straits  
> Warning: The Levellers  
> Devil Inside: INXS
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except for Jacques and Jen Svendson, who are mine.

They woke a few hours later, curled together like spoons, refreshed, and decided to head down to the gym, both feeling the need to exercise. Jen loved to run, she told him; and he smiled and told her there were top-of-the-range treadmills available, plus a half-Olympic size swimming pool and all the gym equipment anyone could possibly want.

Clint looked in the mirror after brushing his teeth and realised he was going to need to wear coloured contact lenses to avoid freaking out anyone not in the know (anyone not in the Tower). He’d worn them many times before on missions when disguise had been called for and still had some sets: he tried a pair of plain brown ones and found that they covered up the startlingly metallic purple-and-gold bands of his irises just fine.

“Well, at least I can go out in public without freaking out the population,” he said, relieved. He’d have to try and find some that were the colour of his eyes before. Somehow he really didn’t want Fury asking difficult questions if he got wind that Clint had changed. He might not work for S.H.I.E.L.D. anymore but Director Fury wasn’t a good man to spring weird surprises on.

“Talking of which,” Jen said, “what the hell is Loki going to do? There’s plenty of footage of him being a freaky bastard and working with the aliens. If he rocks up in the streets and starts to try to help he’ll get lynched. Or a lot of people will get hurt trying.”

Of course, Loki had thought of that, and sneered when Clint mentioned it. “They won’t see _me_ , Barton.” He pointed to the mirrored wall of the gym. “They’ll see that guy.” Thor and Loki had both changed from their robes to Earth clothes, although Loki obviously preferred formality. Thor, in jeans and a hoodie, looked almost normal, although far too large to be overlooked. Loki looked the picture of a successful businessman in a sharp black and green pinstriped suit. And when Clint looked at the mirror, the man looking back at him from those clothes wore a completely different face: still black-haired and green-eyed, but the hair was styled and short, the facial shape quite different.

“Well, duty calls and I guess I need to start work,” Loki sighed in a bored tone. “Come on, brother.”

Thor dragged himself away from where Jane was assembling something large in the middle of the floor – Clint could only guess as to why it needed to be in the gym, but maybe Tony was fed up of her swiping parts out of his labs – and the two of them left. Clint couldn’t help but notice that Loki’s eyes rested for a long moment on Jen on his way out. Jen had walked away to a treadmill as soon as they entered the room, not interested in talking to the Asgardians right now.

Jane sat back, blowing hair out of her eyes, and looked at Clint. “Give me a hand? I need to fit that component onto here, and I can’t hold it on straight to fix it,” she requested, and he shrugged and held the heavy part for her while she bolted it on.

“You need to be careful with Jen around Loki,” Jane said, apparently casually, not looking at Clint. She was speaking very quietly, to make sure Jen couldn’t hear.

“Any reason in particular?” Clint asked, just as softly, offering another bolt. Jane took it and set to again with her wrench.

“Thor told me a bit more about Arthur and Guinevere, or Ginevra, as her real name apparently was. Apparently Loki had a big-time thing for Ginevra and was trying to seduce her before she married Arthur. Part of the reason Arthur got the transformation and was allowed to share it was to prevent that happening. She was the daughter of some king Arthur was allied with and if the marriage hadn’t taken place – and been successful – there would have been war. Loki was crazy enough about Ginevra not to give a flying fuck about whether there was a war or not.”

“Right,” Clint said uncertainly.

“Thor reckons Jen really is a dead ringer for Guinevere. Loki actually made a comment about reincarnation. Which they _do_ believe in, for the record.”

The more Clint thought about that, the less he liked it. “So Loki thinks Jen is Guinevere come back again?”

Jane shrugged, tightening the last bolt. “Maybe.” Flat on her back, half-under the machine, she looked up at Clint. “Loki _has_ changed, but I don’t think I’d trust him if I were you.”

“I’m the last person who will ever trust him, believe me,” Clint said dryly, “but thank you for the warning.” He paused, and couldn’t quite resist teasing the brainy astrophysicist. “So, is Thor adhering to Asgardian or Midgardian cultural norms when it comes to extra-marital relations?”

Jane’s cheeks flamed, and she aimed a whack at him with her wrench, which he dodged with a laugh. “I’m working on convincing him that what happens on Midgard, stays on Midgard,” she said with a laugh.

“Good luck with that,” he gave her a wink.

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he _wants_ to be convinced,” she grinned, and then quite obviously forgot all about him as she picked up a tangled nest of cables lying beside the machine and began to sort out ends and plug them in.

Clint headed for the treadmill beside Jen. She’d plugged headphones into her Starkphone and was obviously listening to music. She was running smoothly and quite fast, not even breaking a sweat, and as he looked at her she frowned at the control panel and jabbed a few buttons, increasing the speed and making the treadmill elevate a few degrees.

“I’m definitely faster,” she said to Clint rather loudly as he started his own treadmill. “This is _cool_.”

He smiled. He’d found it cool himself that he no longer had a phantom pain in his knees after running a couple of miles, an unpleasant reminder that he was no longer young. None of his old injuries had bothered him since he first made love to Jen, actually, and now even his scars were fading, going from hardened knots of scar tissue to faint white marks on his skin. He felt ten years younger and much stronger.

Thinking of that, Clint frowned to himself. He needed to get down to the range after this and get his bow out. His draw weight and string tension might need adjusting, and it would take time and practice to recalibrate correctly. He’d done it many times over the years as his strength and expertise increased, but he was a perfectionist and would not settle for less. He wanted to see how Jen handled herself with a gun too.

Jane was still tinkering with her machine when they finished running. Darcy and Jacques came in to deliver more parts, and Jacques, spotting Jen, came over to talk. She rolled her eyes at him and stopped the treadmill, hopping off.

“Morning, bro. Whassup?”

“Just helping out,” Jacques shrugged, glanced at Clint, then looked back at Jen.

“Everything’s fine. Don’t fuss. So Jane’s put you to work?”

“Ms Potts has put me to work,” Jacques corrected. “I alternate minding Stark, minding Dr Foster and minding Dr Banner. It’s kinda fun, especially Stark. He likes things that go bang.”

Jen rolled her eyes at him. “Just make sure that the Tower doesn’t go bang.”

“I’m not that dim. Holy fuck,” he stared over her shoulder, and Jen turned to see Clint doing one-handed pull-ups, _slowly_ drawing himself up and down. Not only that but he had weights hanging off a special harness on his ankles.

“Oh,” Jen sighed, and licked her lips.

“Evacuate, evacuate,” Darcy yelled across the gym, “hot monkey sex about to happen!”

“Shut up and just admire the work of art, Darcy!” Jane aimed a whack at her friend, who dodged, giggling, and ran over to a frowning Jacques.

“Come on Jack, I need to get you out of here before you spontaneously combust with overprotective brotherly rage.”

“Thanks, Darcy,” Jen smiled at the other girl. “I owe you one.”

“Nah, I still owe _him_ one or two,” Darcy nodded at Clint, towing Jacques after her and grabbing Jane on the way out. “Come on, let’s go get breakfast – Jane, the machine will still be here when we get back…”

Clint was focussed on moving slowly, maximising the effort in his muscles, and was only peripherally aware of the other three leaving. He was suddenly very aware, though, of Jen standing in front of him, lifting one hand to trace a finger down the middle of his straining stomach muscles.

“Whoah!” He dropped to the floor.

“You,” she purred, “are the hottest thing I’ve ever seen and I want you to fuck me _right now_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Please read and review! I love that so many people are enthused about the story, but it actually has more subscribers than reviews now, which seems weird – I’d love to hear from more of you about what it is that you like about the story!**


	41. Chapter Thirty-Five - Blue?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint makes sure that Jen can take care of herself in case of danger.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Blue: Eiffel 65 (hysterical laughter ensues)  
> Barrel Of The Gun: The Levellers  
> Nothing Else Matters: Metallica
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except for Jen and Jacques, who are mine. ALL MINE.

“JARVIS, lock the doors and don’t let anyone in,” Clint scrabbled at his ankle harness, frantic to get the weights off as fast as possible. “And turn off any monitoring.”

“Yes, Mr Barton,” JARVIS replied, and then the lights lowered as well. “Please turn the door handle when you want to be let out.”

They both stripped off frantically, eyes locked on each other, and then to Jen’s surprise Clint reached out and lifted her up. “Hang on here,” he gestured to one of the ropes hanging from the ceiling over the exercise mats. “That knot, there.” Puzzled, she obeyed, and then understood as he pulled her legs apart and stepped between them, driving himself deep, foreplay entirely unnecessary as she was absolutely dripping with lust for him.

“ _Hawk!_ ” she had absolutely no leverage, even when she wrapped her legs around him. He grinned, kissing her.

“Just hang on, darlin’, let me take you to heaven.”

Strong hands on her butt supported most of her weight, and Jen really only had to use her hands to keep her balance. She leaned back, allowing him to take charge, loving the way he plunged inside her, the harsh, guttural moans he let out.

“Yes,” Clint gritted out, panting as he felt Jen begin to clench around him, her back arching, her head falling back. “Oh, yes, darlin’. That’s it. Just there. Oh _God_ …”

They sank to the ground together, legs unable to hold them up, quivering with aftershocks. Jen ended up lying on Clint’s chest, listening to his heart still hammering fast beneath her ear.

“Okay,” he said after several long minutes, “so you just fulfilled a fantasy I didn’t even know I had.”

Jen giggled, stroking his chest. “How is that even possible?”

“I didn’t have the fantasy until you touched me, just a few minutes ago. And then all I could think about was having you like that, hanging from one of my climbing ropes.” His hand was gently smoothing over her hair.

“Glad I could oblige.” She shifted slightly, making herself more comfortable. “That’s seven times for you. How do you feel?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. I’ve never _felt_ all that different, all along. I just keep realising that I’m stronger, or I’m not tired when I should be, or I understand something I never got before. It’s three times for you now, let me see your eyes.”

Jen propped her chin on her hands to look at him. He smiled. Her eyes weren’t as freaky as his: the blue colour was perhaps a little brighter, but now there were thin metallic silver lines striping throughout the irises as well. It was a very pretty effect and one that wouldn’t be too noticeable unless someone was right up close looking at her. Even then it didn’t look inhuman. “They’re pretty. Fine silver stripes in them. Doesn’t look freaky. How do you feel?”

“Fine. I know what you mean about not different. I _feel_ the same, but I keep realising things have changed. It’s like,” she paused and frowned, trying to put it into words. “It’s like the time I got drunk and Jacques dyed my hair blue. I felt exactly the same as always and it wasn’t until I looked in a mirror that I realised why everyone was killing themselves laughing.”

Clint couldn’t help it. His chest began to shake with the effort of holding in the chuckles. Realising she was being laughed at, Jen smacked him on the arm with one small fist.

“Your – brother – dyed – your – hair – _blue_?” was all he could choke out.

“Yes, the rotten shit. I was only nineteen and it was the first time I got passing-out drunk, so he decided to teach me a lesson. It wouldn’t come out. I had to go brunette for months to hide it.”

That was it, he broke up laughing. Jen scrambled off him with a disgusted look and got dressed quickly, throwing his clothes at him.

“Oh, get dressed. Come on, let’s go down to the range. I want to see you shoot, and I want to try out your bow.”

“You can’t,” he said, dragging his shorts and shirt back on. “You won’t be able to draw it.”

“Explain,” she demanded. “I know nothing about archery.”

The range was in a lower sub-basement, two hundred yards long stretching under the street away from the Tower. There was a fully-stocked armoury, and Clint handed Jen ear-protectors and then gestured at the racked rifles and handguns. “Choose a weapon.”

“But I want to try a _bow_ ,” she whined at him.

“I know you do, but I don’t have one you can draw.” He plucked one of his own bows from a rack and showed it to her. “This is set at a ninety-pound draw. An average draw, for a man, would be a fifty to sixty-pound draw. A woman your size could draw maybe thirty-five pounds. Now your strength is enhanced, maybe you’ll manage forty or forty-five pounds. You see why you won’t be able to draw my bow? Quite apart from that, there’s the small issue that I’m left-handed and you’re not, and you can’t just turn a bow upside-down to use it the other way around.”

She watched the muscles in his back ripple in his tight gym shirt as he fitted an arrow to the string, drew and loosed in one smooth movement. “Yes, I see. And you don’t have a lighter bow I can try?”

“Not right now. I’ll have JARVIS order you one – a right-handed one – and some lighter arrows. The arrow-weight needs to correspond to the draw. My heavy arrows won’t go far from a light draw bow.” He fired another arrow, scowling. “Damn it.”

“What’s the matter?” he had hit the bullseye on the furthest target both times, seemingly with little effort. “That’s a long shot for bow and arrow, isn’t it?”

“Not all that long, but I’m only using about fifty percent of my effort. An optimum would be to use about seventy percent effort. I can’t adjust this bow to any heavier weight. They don’t _make_ bows heavier weight.”

“Tony and I will just have to make you one, then.” Giving up on the idea of shooting a bow today, Jen turned back to the gun cabinets. Her hands drifted over several rifles before pausing. “Is that – that’s a Cheytac M200!”

“You _do_ know your guns,” Clint grinned approvingly at her. “That’s my preferred sniper rifle, times when I need to use one. It’s set up for me left-handed, though. Use that one next to it, it’s Natasha’s.”

Jen lifted the gun out reverently. “Seriously, these things can fire rounds at accuracy more than a mile!”

“I made a shot at a mile and a half,” Clint said reminiscently, “in Bogotá once.”

“That would be a world record!” Jen looked at him disbelievingly, and then laughed and shook her head. “Not like you can exactly advertise it, though, is it?”

“Not considering that S.H.I.E.L.D. really couldn’t admit we were in Colombia at all at the time, no,” he grinned at her. “Seriously, you want a go, fire it. Or I’ll take you to an outdoor range sometime. Your brother, too. I don’t know if he’s been in here yet but there’s plenty of fun toys to play with.”

“I think he’d have mentioned it if he had been,” Jen put the rifle reverently back in the case. “I’ll wait. 200 yards seems a bit pointless for that beauty.” She looked over the handguns, tried a few in her hand, and eventually selected a SIG P39. Clint nodded approvingly at her choice; she had small hands and the P39 was one of the few in the armoury that she would likely be comfortable with. Natasha had much longer fingers and preferred a Glock 26 in each hand, as she had trained herself to be ambidextrous with them. He put on his own ear protectors and watched as Jen competently field-stripped, checked and reassembled the gun.

“Ammo?”

He slid open a drawer under the counter, pointing to the right cartridges, and again watched in silence as she loaded a magazine. Aware she was being tested, Jen said nothing, just slotted the magazine, put on her ear protectors and stepped to a range window. She punched up a target at 20 yards, hesitated a little when she realised it was a human silhouette rather than a rings target, and then realised there wasn’t much point in just target shooting for someone like Clint. And if _she_ had need to use a gun, it wouldn’t be on a bunch of circles on paper. She firmed her chin, turned sideways and fired four shots right-handed, taking her time, then took up a two-handed stance and fired four more.

“Pretty good,” Clint said when she laid the gun down. He pushed the button to bring the target close. “Very good, actually, for a gun you’d never fired before.” Every shot but one – her first – was within the kill zone of head or chest. He could have put the palm of his hand over three of them, and the one that wouldn’t have killed would have hit in the stomach and severely incapacitated an assailant. Provided the guy didn’t have body armour on.

Jen offered him a slightly smug smile. “I told you I can take care of myself. My dad taught me to shoot when I was seven.”

Clint nodded. “I doubt I can teach you too much about pistol shooting. Except that you need to go for the head more because damn near everyone wears body armour these days. Natasha’s better with handguns than I am. I’ll ask her to work with you on your technique a little. Rifles, on the other hand,” he grinned, “I’ll be a condescending bastard about those to _anyone_.”

“And knives and swords, from the collection in your room,” Jen said.

He shrugged, the grin turning cocky. “I’d back myself against most anyone with pretty much any conventional weapon you care to name.”

“And a few _un_ conventional ones,” she eyed the bow he was still holding. “Show me some more with that?”

He smiled, and collected a quiver of standard-tipped arrows, slinging it across his back and shifting his shoulders until it rested right. He stood at the range window, called up a fresh target at maximum range, took three deep breaths, and fired six arrows in rapid succession, his hand whipping back and forth over his shoulder almost faster than the eye could follow.

“Holy fucking shit,” Jen breathed when he lowered the bow. “That’s not even _possible_.”

Every single arrow had _split_ the one directly before it. Arrow shards littered the floor in front of the target. The X-ring was completely obliterated.

“Avenger Hawkeye at your service, ma’am,” he bowed elegantly. “The impossible, I can take care of for you. For miracles I call Thor.”

Jen burst out laughing, walked over and hugged him hard. For a moment he was still with surprise, and then he hugged her back, bending his head to kiss her gently.

“I love you,” Jen said quietly, and the smile that broke across his face was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N My own older brother pulled the blue hair trick on me when I first got passed-out drunk. This is the only incident in this story taken from my own life, but it’s too fucking funny not to share (with MANY years hindsight)**
> 
> **I know nothing about archery, everything I’ve put in this story comes out of a few web articles, so apologies if I’ve got things wrong!**


	42. Chapter Thirty-Six- Outside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen gets a touch of cabin fever.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Somewhere I Belong: Linkin Park  
> Bow River: Cold Chisel  
> Lonely No More: Rob Thomas
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except for my OCs Jen and Jacques.

They spent an hour at the range, Jen trying out a selection of pistols and in the end deciding she liked the P39 best. Clint promised to get her one of her own that she could keep with her, and order her a bow. They were heading back up to his apartment to get showered and changed when JARVIS interrupted them.

“Begging your pardon, Miss Svendson, but your brother Mr Jacques is looking for you. Your parents are on Skype in the main lounge. Mr Jacques asked me to relay the message ‘get your ass in here right now or Dad’s gonna be on the next plane’.”

“You want me to come with you?” Clint asked when Jen looked suddenly panicked.

“No!” she smiled to take the sting from her quick response. “I don’t think I’m quite ready for you to meet my parents just yet. I’m gonna have to do enough double-talk as it is. They’ll probably be over here in the next few weeks anyway: Pepper got the transfer for Jacques sorted out and Mum and Dad are rather concerned that both of their kids are now working for an organisation based around superheroes that didn’t even exist a few weeks ago.”

Clint nodded, and left her to go join her brother. He showered and dressed, thinking that he should go catch up with Natasha. See what she was up to. He owed her big-time; Jen had told him that Natasha had nursed him devotedly while he was sick, and it was she who had kept Jen updated and finally in desperation arranged to let Jen in to see him.

Clint wondered if he really would have died before Thor got back otherwise. Whatever: it was yet another life he owed Natasha. They’d long since stopped keeping score. She insisted nothing beyond the first time he spared her life counted anyway, though he disagreed.

He found her in the kitchen, watching Steve cook. The All-American boy was making breakfast waffles, which were being eagerly wolfed down by Bruce, Tony and Pepper as well. They all groaned when Clint appeared.

“Dammit, we just got rid of the bloody Aussie and now Legolas is here to steal our food,” Tony groused.

“Fuck off, Stark, I just want my fair share,” Clint sat down and Natasha slid him a plate.

“I’m quite happy to keep making waffles until you all explode,” Steve said amiably, flipping a fresh waffle onto Clint’s plate.

Pepper sighed, chasing a drop of maple syrup round her plate with her finger and licking it off. “I think I’m done anyway, or I won’t fit into any of my clothes.”

She was dressed as untidily as Clint had ever seen her, in grey yoga pants and an Iron Man T-shirt. She still looked pretty, and Tony obviously agreed. He’d watched her lick that drop of maple syrup off with a hungry eagerness on his face that Pepper clearly didn’t miss and the rest of them tried very hard to ignore.

Tony and Pepper were gone five minutes later, Tony deciding he really didn’t need any more waffles anyway, and he and Pepper had, er, some urgent Stark Industries business to deal with. Only Steve, perhaps, didn’t know exactly what they were up to.

“I wanted to say thank you,” Clint said to Bruce, in between waffles. And _damn_ but Captain America made really good waffles!

Bruce raised his eyebrows and shook his head. “My way nearly killed you. Thank Tasha and Jen.”

“Bruce, you did your best for me under impossible circumstances. We haven’t known each other long and I know you went above and beyond.”

Bruce ducked his head, embarrassed, and Clint smiled. “I just wanted to say that I owe you. If there’s ever anything you need my special skills for – or indeed anything at all you just need a friend’s help with – you call on me and there’ll be no questions asked. All right?”

“Done,” Bruce shook his hand on that. “And now, I’ve got work to do. I’ve neglected my research long enough to play doctor to you, Barton. Though I have to say you have brought us a damn handy lab assistant. Jacques Svendson is a smart guy.”

“You can thank Jen for that one. He’s here because of her.”

Bruce left, and Natasha took his seat by Clint, looking him over. “You’re good?” she said in her typically laconic fashion. Natasha was not one to use ten words when two would do.

“I’m good. You?” Often enough the two of them used hardly any words at all. They’d spent so long undercover together the slightest twitch of a muscle could communicate whatever they needed to say. Clint deliberately opened his body language, confirming his words in every way he could. Natasha responded with a slight twitch of her chin upwards, accepting it, though she looked closely at his eyes.

“Looks weird.”

“Feels no different really. Jen compared it to the time her brother dyed her hair blue when she was drunk and she didn’t know until she looked in the mirror.”

Natasha let out a snort of laughter. “I’ve got some contacts that are close to the colour your eyes used to be. Want them?”

“Would be handy, yeah, thanks.”

“Fury?”

They exchanged glances. _Fury doesn’t need to know_.

_Nor does anyone who’s not one of us._

“You know, it’s kind of freaky when you two have a whole conversation without speaking,” Steve said conversationally.

They both startled slightly. Steve sat down at the table, everyone finally satisfied with waffles, and looked at Clint and Natasha. “I can go, if you two want to talk privately? Out loud, I mean?”

“We’re good,” Natasha said, and she reached out and took Steve’s hand in hers. He smiled, and didn’t blush, Clint was pleased to see.

“You two are together? My whole disaster hasn’t got in the way?” he asked.

They both smiled at him. “Yes we are, and no, it hasn’t,” Steve said. “There’s no rush for us. We’re just getting to know each other. I’m – well, I’m not modern in my thinking, even if I am starting to catch up to understanding how things work today. I’d rather take things at my own pace.”

Natasha smiled. _And I’m happy with that. I’m_ happy.

“I’m happy for you both,” Clint said aloud, and Steve shook his head and sighed.

“I need to learn this silent language of yours.”

“Hey, you recognise when we’re speaking it, that’s a head start on everyone else,” Clint pointed out.

The door opened just then and Jen came in.

“Hey, would you like some waffles? Your brother had some earlier but you missed out,” Steve made to stand up immediately, but she touched light fingers to his shoulder, pressing him back down.

“No, thanks, I had some yogurt and an apple. I’m good.” She moved around the table to Clint and plopped herself on his knee, arms sliding around his neck. “Oh Haw-awk.”

“What is it you want?” he sighed, resigning himself to giving it to her immediately. Damn, but he was wrapped around her little finger, and she knew it. Natasha’s lips quirked, and he knew his partner was laughing at him silently.

_Oh shut up._

_You’re so cute with her._

_Go away and work on getting into Steve’s pants._

_What a good idea._ Natasha stood up, keeping Steve’s hand in hers. “Come on. Let’s leave these two lovebirds alone. I’ve decided what movie you should watch next. I’m updating him through film,” she told Clint.

“Where are you up to?”

“The eighties. And _Ghostbusters_.”

“Still not up to when I was born, then,” Jen said cheerfully, and Steve groaned.

“Way to make me feel old!” he and Natasha left the room, discussing movies of 1984, and Clint looked at Jen sitting in his lap.

“So what is it you want, darlin’?”

“I want to go _outside_ ,” she looked up at him pleadingly. “I haven’t been out since we got here. Steve and Jacques moved all my stuff out of my old apartment. I think Tony and Natasha were frightened to let me leave in case you woke up and they needed me to stop you going on a rampage.”

“I really did freak everyone out, didn’t I?” he mused. Jen said nothing, but he read the truth in her eyes. “Okay, no one wants to talk about it, I get it. Let’s go, darlin’. How about a walk in the park?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **For the SteveTasha fans – yes, there is at least one more Interlude coming up for them in a few chapters.**


	43. Chapter Thirty-Seven - Trouble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint realises that Loki is definitely interested in Jen, and we find out a little bit about why.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Trouble: Pink (for which the original video features a very sexy Jeremy Renner as a bad sheriff wearing guyliner. True story. Check it out)  
> Everybody’s Fool: Evanescence  
> Miss Independent: Kelly Clarkson
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Marvel except my OCs, Jen and Jacques.

_Of course, nothing ever goes to plan_ , Clint groused to himself a little while later. Because they made a detour to look in a shop Jen wanted to visit – a shoe shop (he should have known) and ended up walking along West 45th, passing the site where the skyscraper had toppled after the battle, nearly killing him and Jen. The debris was long gone and there was a construction site there already. And standing in front of the site, a frown of concentration on his face, was Loki.

Clint was all for crossing the street, or maybe heading back the way they had come, but almost as soon as they spotted him and hesitated, Loki turned and saw them. He smiled slightly, and called out;

“Clint, may I request your help?”

Clint looked at Jen, and she shrugged back at him. “If he really has changed, it’d be rude to say no,” she murmured, though there was a cynical arch to her eyebrows.

“Hm.” Clint took a firmer hold on her hand and approached Loki. “What can I help you with, er…”

“Call me Luke in public,” Loki murmured. “I am trying to help the people rebuilding this tower. Use my magic to speed things up, ease their way, make sure that everything fits where it must. But I don’t quite see what the point of this item is.” He gestured to a large device on the ground, and then held up a StarkSlate. “I see where it must go, but not what it does, or how to connect it.”

“It’s a filtration scrubber,” Jen couldn’t help herself. She took the slate from Loki and ran her fingers across, expanding the plan he was looking at. “Look, it’s for the air conditioning. It helps keep the air recycling through the building clean…” she explained for a few minutes, answering some questions of clarification he asked, and then sighed in exasperation. “This is ridiculous. How you can you help most effectively when you don’t understand how things work? You need an architect or engineer to assist… I can help you with most of this stuff…”

“Oh, fuck, no,” Clint suddenly realised what Loki was angling for. “ _No fucking way_.”

“What?” Jen turned an irritated look on him. “Clint, don’t be silly. I can help _fix_ this…”

 _Fucking engineers!_ He managed not to say it out loud, but had the nasty feeling Loki read his expression. Jen was annoyed with him – he could tell, because she called him _Clint_ , not _Hawk_ – and arguing with her right now would lead to the kind of fight he really didn’t want to get into at all, and most especially not in front of Loki. So he shoved his hands in his pockets, followed them and thought savage thoughts about carving Loki’s lying, conniving tongue out with a dull knife.

Jen was too innocent, too trusting; for all the cynical, sarcastic front she’d showed Clint before he really got to know her and she let him in, he knew that underneath she was still very young and far too innocent in the ways of manipulation.

Loki had her right where he wanted her; she would work with him because she couldn’t help herself. All Clint could do was follow along behind and make damn sure he didn’t so much as touch a hair on her head. When Jen was distracted for a moment, checking over some stacks of ductwork, Clint moved close to Loki and breathed quietly;

“Touch her, and I’ll make you suffer pain such as even you have never imagined. And the others will help me. They’re all just waiting for you to give them an excuse.”

“They’ll get none,” Loki didn’t look at him, his eyes on Jen. “Ginny is helping me of her own free will. I’d never make her do anything she didn’t want to do.”

“ _Jen_ ,” Clint said savagely. “Her name is Jen. She’s not Ginevra, or Guinevere, or whatever you called her, and don’t you fucking forget it. _She_ didn’t love you anyway, so I hear.”

Loki turned on him, his green eyes flashing with rage. Clint didn’t back down, faced him fearlessly. Somewhere deep inside him something screamed and cowered, but for Jen’s sake Clint would have faced down far more fearsome threats than this alien creature who thought himself a god.

And in the end Loki said; “I know she’s not Ginevra.” Clint started very slightly, because for the first time he had the sense that the Asgardian was speaking the truth, and nothing but. “She reminds me of her, that’s all. But she’s not Ginevra reborn. If she was, she’d never have wanted you, because her soul is tied to Arturus’ throughout eternity, and you’re not the Pendragon come back again. I’ve been deep enough in your mind to be sure of that.”

Clint blinked. _Am I insulted? Am I relieved? Wait – what?_ “Did you say Ginevra and Arturus…”

“The gift of transformation, if given to a couple, binds their souls together permanently, yes,” Loki sighed irritably. “It’s part of the spell. Every time they are reborn, circumstances will conspire to make it possible for them to be together again. The gift that keeps on giving, you might say. So yes, even if Jen _were_ Ginevra reborn, she wouldn’t be mine. Or yours.”

“You really _did_ want to reward me,” Clint said, genuinely surprised.

Loki gave a put-upon scowl. “Barton, you served me well and I believed you deserved it. Had I known you would manage to choose the one human mortal in this age I might have wanted for myself, I would not have allowed you to share it.”

Clint wanted to punch Loki. Instead, he chose his words carefully to inflict the maximum wound, because whatever Loki had done, he had done it for his own purposes and without Clint’s consent. He deserved to suffer for it. “It’s entirely thanks to you that I met her.”

“What?”

“It was during the battle. A couple of minutes after I shot at you with the blast arrow, I ended up inside that building escaping the Chitauri and ran across Jen. They’d have killed her if I hadn’t rescued her. And a few hours later, right about where we’re standing now, the skyscraper that was here collapsed and almost killed her a second time. I was right there and I protected her under my body armour. I saved her life twice: I fell in love with her and I chose her, even not knowing what your gift would do to me, to us both. So it’s all thanks to you, Loki.” Clint smiled and walked away to where Jen was inspecting another piece of machinery. He was aware of the Asgardian’s eyes on his back, but even his newly-enhanced hearing wasn’t keen enough to hear Loki’s whisper.

“She’s not entirely yours _yet_ , Barton. Not quite yet. Maybe not ever…”

“Are you hungry?” Clint asked Jen. He’d long since figured that telling her point-blank he didn’t want her there wasn’t going to get him anywhere. It hadn’t when she was heading into a broken skyscraper on this very spot, and it certainly wouldn’t now. He was going to have to be more subtle.

Jen checked her watch. It was almost one o’clock. “I am, actually. Let’s get Loki and go find some food…”

“Jen,” he interrupted gently, “I’ve fine with you teaching Loki how buildings work while he’s helping repair them, if that’s what you feel the best use of your skills is right now. But I draw the line at inviting him to lunch with us. Give him an engineering textbook to read and let him find his own food.”

She grinned at that and put her hand into his. “Are you jealous?”

“Yes,” he said quite honestly.

“You don’t need to be. He still gives me the creeps.”

“Good.” They walked back to Loki, who studiously ignored their clasped hands. “We’re going to eat,” Jen told him. “I’ll speak to you again later. I want to email the architecture firm, anyway, I think there’s an error in the calculations on the ducting for the top twelve floors. You have a read of these,” she took his slate and called up a couple of engineering manuals. “Plus, here’s a plan of a fairly similar building – it’s one I worked on in London. Check it out and you’ll see what I was trying to explain before.”

“Thank you,” Loki said, accepting the slate back. He looked as though he was almost expecting an invitation from Jen to come to lunch with them, and an expression of slight disappointment crossed his face as she tugged on Clint’s hand and walked away without another word.

“Where do you want to eat?” Clint asked as Jen led him back towards Park. “Shall we go to Central Park now?”

“No, I’ve had enough fresh air for now,” glancing back at Loki, Jen saw that he was still watching them, and made sure that she kept her voice clear enough for him to hear. She hadn’t missed the Asgardian’s frequent looks at her, or the (mostly) silent pissing contest going on between Clint and Loki. “Why don’t we grab some sandwiches from a deli, take them back to your place, and you can take me to bed again?”

“Sounds like the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Loki, Loki – what are you plotting now? He just can’t help himself, can he?**
> 
> **Loki, to me, is a really complicated character. Not _truly_ evil, but egotistical and selfish – like Tony, but without the philanthropy. Loki genuinely did want to reward Clint, because Clint did everything Loki needed him to do very efficiently, and Loki wanted to keep him around to assist in ruling Earth after the Chitauri war. Loki does nothing without his own reasons, though, and allowing Clint to choose a mate to share the enhancement spell with was Loki’s way of trying to ensure Clint’s loyalty so that he could eventually be released from the mind possession.**
> 
> **And yes, Loki really was once in love with Ginevra/Guinevere, and he’s SERIOUSLY bummed that Jen and Clint are together.**
> 
> **As an aside, I’ve read a lot of historical research on Guinevere and Arthur – it’s likely that they may well have been real people. Arthur probably was a Roman commander (hence Arturus) and he would likely have married a daughter of a local chieftain to try and cement alliances. Guinevere is probably a corruption from either the Welsh Gwenhwyfar (pronounced Gwen-weev-ahr) or the French Ginevra (Zhin-ehv-ra) which later became Genevieve (Zhen-eh-veev) or Genviève (Zhahn-vee-ehv).**
> 
> **As I’m Welsh originally and I’m trying hard not to make Jen a Mary-Sue, I went with the French variant!**


	44. Chapter Thirty-Eight - What, No Interruptions?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Return of the smut...
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Runaway Train: Soul Asylum  
> Wherever You Will Go: The Calling  
> Caught In The Storm: Goo Goo Dolls
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all of these wonderful characters, except for Jen and Jacques, my OCs.

It had begun to seem to Clint that it was inevitable that every time he tried to get Jen to his bed, someone would interrupt, whether it was Natasha, Stark, Jen’s brother or someone else. He was almost waiting for the other shoe to drop as the elevator whisked them up to his apartment.

“You want to eat now?” he gestured at the bag of sandwiches dangling from his hand.

“No,” Jen took the bag and tossed it in the fridge. “Later.” She reached out and pulled down the zip on his leather jacket, the thin silver stripes in her eyes glinting in the early afternoon sun slanting in through the window. “Possibly quite a bit later.”

“I am really glad you said that,” Clint lifted her to the kitchen table, busying himself removing her boots and socks. “ _Really_ glad.”

“I’m only reading your mind, sex god.” She dragged the hem of his T-shirt up and he yanked it off impatiently, crowding close to her. She put her knees against his hips and smiled as she realised the table was at the perfect height.

“Just a man,” he whispered against her throat, unzipping her hoodie. “That’s all I am. Just the man who loves you.”

“Love me then,” she whispered back, and deliberately scratched her nails down his back, digging them in hard on either side of his spine.

“Yes, oh hell, yes,” Clint arched into her with a groan, and then his hands were everywhere, impatiently dragging her clothes from her, but no less hastily than she was ripping at his. Finally they were both naked and he plunged two fingers inside her, his thumb rubbing quickly, spreading moisture as she gasped and bit at his shoulder, reaching out to take his straining cock in her hand.

“Jen,” he moaned it, pressing his cheek against her hair. “Oh, darlin’, you don’t know what you do to me. I need you so much…”

“Shut up and take me then!” she hooked her ankles together behind his back and dragged herself to the edge of the table, pulling his hand away from between them. He slid into her easily, plunging deep with one smooth, swift thrust.

They both let out simultaneous moans of relief and stilled for a moment. Jen wrapped her arms around Clint’s neck and kissed him, enjoying the rasp of his stubble. Natasha had kept him clean-shaven while he was out of it, but he hadn’t shaved since the previous morning and was getting distinctly raspy. It was sexy as hell, even though she was going to get whisker burn.

“You – you still want me even though your seventh time is done?” she said almost shyly, unable to meet his eyes.

He hadn’t told her yet what Loki had said about their souls being bound together for eternity. _Later_ , Clint promised himself. _He’d tell her later_. Right now he kissed her hard. “Darlin’, I’ll still be wanting you when the stars burn out.” He was quite confident of that.

Gently he pressed her back until she lay flat on the table, spread out before him, lifting her feet over his shoulders. He looked down at where their bodies joined and put his hand on her stomach, his thumb flicking lightly at her clit. “Let me show you how much.” His other hand went under her butt, supporting and holding her steady as he started to move, slowly pumping in and out, sliding slickly inside her wet heat, becoming still more aroused as he watched himself make love to Jen. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

Flushed with passion, laid out on the table completely vulnerable to him, he’d never seen anything so lovely in his life. He still found it hard to believe his good fortune. Some tiny paranoid part of his brain constantly whispered that it couldn’t last; that he’d lose her like he’d lost everyone else he’d ever loved.

“Talk to me,” Jen gasped out. “I love – I love it when you talk to me when you’re inside me like this – I can _feel_ your voice…”

“Can you?” Clint laughed darkly. “You shouldn’t’a told me that, darlin’. I’ll never shut up now. I like you this way, on my table. Next time I’m gonna sit down and feast on you first, would you like that?”

“Yes,” she almost whimpered. “Hawk, _please_ …”

“You come for me first, darlin’, I wanna watch you.”

She was helpless against him, his thumb chafing at the exact right speed, his rigid cock moving inside her rubbing over her most sensitive places, creating an unbearable friction. She shuddered as a wave of heat rushed over her, muscles rippling around him in a hot wet clench that Clint had to grit his teeth against, or be carried away with her. He kept pumping gently, keeping her pleasure at a peak as long as he could. At last Jen sighed and opened her eyes, smiling up at him.

“You all right, my love?” he said softly, stilling.

“Mm,” she licked her lips, “but can we go to bed? This table’s kind of cold on my back.”

He smiled and lifted her up to him easily, carrying her through to the bedroom still buried deep inside her.

“Oh no, _you_ lie down,” Jen dug her nails into his shoulders when he would have lowered her to the bed. “I want to be on top, this time.”

He grinned eagerly, sat down on the bed and eased to lie back, taking her with him.

Sitting up, she flexed her thighs, clamping her knees to his sides. “ _Now_ I get another chance to demonstrate my riding skills to you. You interrupted me last night.”

It was Clint’s turn to moan. Sweat broke out on his forehead as Jen rode him, her rhythm just the right speed to send him to fever pitch in moments. “Fuck yeah, I love it!”

“Good.” She scratched her nails over his stomach muscles, tracing the lines of his six-pack. “Mine,” Jen purred softly to him, knowing Clint was still a little insecure over her and guessing correctly that he would love hearing her lay claim to him. “You’re all _mine_ , Hawkeye.”

“Always,” he groaned, his neck arching back, hands twisting in the sheet beneath him, his muscles standing out in even greater relief and making Jen stare in awe. He was a work of art sculpted in male flesh. It still seemed incredible to her that he’d chosen her, that he loved _her_ ; a shortarse, foul-tempered chick with a bad habit of mouthing off to absolutely everyone.

Thinking of something else he would like, she put one hand to the back of her neck and pulled her hair free from the loose ponytail she’d caught it back in earlier, then leant forward until it tumbled over his chest, kissing his nipples lightly and flicking at one with her tongue until it pointed enough for her to nip at.

“ _Jen_ ,” Clint groaned. She was still rocking against him in that fast rhythm that made him crazy, and the combined softness of her hair and sharpness of her teeth against his skin was pushing him rapidly close to the edge. “I can’t – I need – ohhhhh – yessss – _please_ …”

“Yes,” Jen was close again herself, feeling him thicken and swell inside her. “Yes!” it was a cry of triumph as she felt the sudden pulse of heat inside her, his body shuddering under her. Her womb clamped down hard automatically, sucking every drop of his seed deep into her, and she moaned with the pleasure of it and collapsed to lie on his chest, breathing hard.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A short chapter, this one, but it’s basically pure smut… you guys don’t mind, do you? Thought not ;)**
> 
> **Please read and review! I’m a bit spooked as some of my regular reviewers have gone quiet – do you not like where I’m going with this? In the next 10-12 chapters the whole plot gets revealed. And you will discover that even seemingly innocuous little things I threw in that totally looked like red herrings earlier are actually REALLY important. ;)**


	45. Chapter Thirty-Nine - Firestarter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint gets a call from Director Fury.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Firestarter: The Prodigy  
> When I’m Gone: 3 Doors Down  
> If You’re Gone: Matchbox 20
> 
> Disclaimer: I own none of these characters, except for Jacques and Jen.

“I love you,” Clint murmured against her hair. Jen still lay on his chest, both of them utterly relaxed against each other.

“My Hawk,” she turned her head and kissed the hollow of his throat. “I love _you_.”

He held her close for a long moment, breathing in her scent, trying to fix the moment in his memory. And then he said “I’m starving, let’s grab those sandwiches.”

Clint was all for eating in bed, but Jen said firmly that she wasn’t prepared to sleep in crumbs, and he sighed and mentally gave up another bachelor habit. He dragged on a pair of shorts instead and followed her to the kitchen, consoled by the fact that she had only pulled on his T-shirt and he could stare at her legs to his heart’s content.

They sat down to eat together – though Clint looked contemplatively at the table as he wiped it down with a dishcloth, and then at Jen, enjoying the fact that she still blushed. She removed his hand from her thigh firmly and opened the bag of sandwiches.

Afterwards, they curled up together on the couch, still getting comfortable in each other’s company. Clint decided now was a good time to tell her what Loki had said about their being permanently bonded together. Sooner rather than later. He’d always preferred to bite the bullet and get things done. If Jen was going to flip her lid over it, possibly there was some way for Loki to reverse the enchantment on her before it was completed. It would just about kill Clint to even ask, but if that was what Jen wanted – well, wasn’t it the very definition of truly loving someone, that you would let them go if they would be happier without you?

“I need to tell you something,” he began. Jen, curled against him, looked up at him with an inquiring smile. “It was something Loki said to me before. He – well, actually, I’ll start with Jane, earlier. She told me that Thor said you really do look a lot like Ginevra. Queen Guinevere, that was. And the Asgardians believe in reincarnation.”

“You’re not _serious_ : they don’t think I’m a reincarnation of Guinevere!” Jen stared in disbelief.

“No. Thor and Jane thought Loki might believe that but when I confronted him he says he knows you aren’t. Because if you were, you wouldn’t have got involved with me. Guinevere is permanently linked to Arthur; soul-mated, I suppose you could call it; no matter how many times they are reincarnated, they’ll end up together. And Loki says I’m definitely _not_ King Arthur reincarnated. Which is actually something of a relief, I must admit; that would be a bit much to live up to.”

Jen smiled. “I dunno. Maybe they’d have given you Excalibur: that would have been cool and you could have claimed the throne of England.” She was amused at the thought.

“ _Not_ cool. Fortunately, not going to be my problem. The thing is, when Loki said that Guinevere and Arthur were permanently linked – soul-mates – it’s because of _this_. We will be, too.”

“So it _is_ a permanent bond.” She seemed totally unconcerned with that, and he couldn’t understand why not. And then she saw his furrowed brow and smiled tenderly.

“Isn’t soul-mates something that everyone wants to believe in? The fact that it can be real isn’t something I’m going to cry over. The fact that you are mine, well,” the joy in her expression caused a wide grin to spread across his face, but she didn’t express it fully aloud, “I don’t think I could have done better.”

“I got so damn lucky when I crashed through that window,” Clint said gruffly, and drew Jen to him for a long, deep kiss. She was just hooking her fingers into the waistband of his shorts when his phone started playing _Firestarter_ by The Prodigy. _I’m a firestarter. Twisted firestarter…_

“And who is that?” Jen looked at the phone with interest as Clint collected it from the kitchen counter.

“I dunno, but I can take a good guess. Please don’t get into the camera view?”

She nodded. He hadn’t asked her to leave the room, anyway. She sat quiet and still, waiting.

“Director Fury,” Clint keyed the phone on to see the director’s face. He’d guessed right, then. He really needed to spend some time and figure out this damn phone and what Stark had programmed it with.

“On behalf of S.H.I.E.L.D., Mr Barton, I am officially requesting your assistance,” Fury barked out, and Clint could see it was already irritating the hell out of him that he couldn’t just give Clint orders any more.

“Just me, Director, or the rest of the Avengers?”

“Just you, Barton. I already spoke to Stark and Rogers about it. They understand.”

“Any details on the mission before I must accept or decline, sir? Because I have to tell you that I’m currently leaning towards _decline_. I have some time-critical issues to deal with myself in the next couple of days.”

Fury huffed with annoyance. “Stark assures me that this is a secure line. I’ll take his word for it and put his head on the block if he’s wrong. Barton, some moron has failed to watch _Jurassic Park_ and bred himself some velociraptors. They ate him and got loose.”

In his peripheral vision, Clint saw Jen’s eyes go very wide. He didn’t so much as flick a glance at her, though. “Please tell me this is on some nice isolated jungle island where they can just be firebombed out of existence?”

“Wouldn’t that be delightful? If it was, Barton, I wouldn’t be calling you, would I? No. This particular crazed geneticist was conducting his lovely research on a godforsaken hideout in West Virginia. And now there are three – we _think_ three – velociraptors on the loose in the Appalachians. To be precise, in the Monongahela National Forest. Where they’ve already killed three Forestry Service personnel and at least eight hikers. That’s how many bodies we’ve found so far, anyway.”

“Oh, _fuck_.”

“Yes, that was my word for it too, Mr Barton, when the Forestry Service _finally_ decided to call it in. It gets better. The geneticist played with the DNA code and made them poisonous. I sent in a team to assess the situation on the ground once we figured out where they had come from. An Army Ranger shooter killed one of the beasts and one of my agents, touching a claw, discovered that it’s a fatal contact poison. Agent Hill took his arm off at the shoulder, but he’s still touch and go.”

Clint’s respect for Maria Hill ratcheted up another notch. He was well aware that she thought he was a loose cannon and the other Avengers were dangerous at best. But damn if she wasn’t the most level-headed person he’d ever met.

“So to sum up,” he said levelly, “you want me to come and hunt poisonous killer dinosaurs in _Deliverance_ country?”

“I want you to come and kill them, Barton, before word gets out and there’s a bloody panic on my hands.”

“I accept, Director Fury,” Clint glanced at Jen.

“Good. Agent Sitwell is waiting for you with a chopper on the roof. Wheels up in ten minutes.”

“Sir!” Clint interrupted before Fury could cut the line. “No matter what happens, I have to be back here at Stark – at Avengers Tower within twenty-four hours. I need your word on that.”

Fury stilled and looked at him intently. “I no longer have the right to demand your reason for that, Barton,” he said, “but I’m going to ask you to tell me anyway. And while you’re at it, what the fuck is wrong with your eyes?”

 _Oh FUCK_.

“Even if this is a secure line, sir, I’m not prepared to discuss either of those things with anyone except you, personally. I promise I will tell you the next time we are face to face _if_ you agree to my condition that I must be back here by this time tomorrow.”

“Agreed. I’ll see you in West Virginia, Barton,” Fury said, and the screen went blank.

“You forgot your contact lenses!” Jen gasped in horror.

“Yes, I fucking well did.” He stood and reached for her, dragging her close and kissing her hard. “I have to go. You understand that? And I can’t take you with me. S.H.I.E.L.D. won’t let you close to the operation and I’m damned well not leaving you anywhere in that particular part of the world without me to look after you.”

“I get it,” she said, hugging him tightly. “ _Deliverance_ gives most people nightmares, does it not? Add in _Jurassic Park_ and I think I’d like to stay here where it’s nice and safe. I – I’m just worried about _you_.”

“Regrettably,” he said with a bitter laugh, going into the bedroom and grabbing clean clothes, “this is not the first time I’ve been called to hunt genetically modified monsters through a forest. Poisonous dinosaurs is a first, but monsters, no.”

“You won’t be going in alone?”

Clint shook his head, dragging his boots on. “No. There’s a team of specialists for this sort of thing. I’ve been the team leader for six years. Director Fury needs me because he hasn’t had time to get a replacement he trusts in place yet.” He looked up at the ceiling and raised his voice. “JARVIS, has my weaponry been delivered to Agent Sitwell yet?” he picked up the box Natasha had dropped off for him earlier and fitted the contact lenses that matched his original eye colour, blinking them into place.

“Ms Romanoff and Mr Rogers are delivering it to the roof at this moment, sir.”

“Good. I have to go,” he looked at Jen. “But you heard the Director, he gave me his word that I’ll be back here within twenty-four hours, and Nick Fury _never_ breaks his word. If you need _anything_ , anything at all, ask Natasha. And if anything goes wrong, if – if I don’t get back, ask Bruce for help. I don’t think Loki would let anything bad happen to you either, and if he tries to do anything you don’t want, I trust Tasha and Bruce to kill him for me.”

Jen smiled at that, trying very hard not to let him see her cry. “I’ll be fine. Don’t think about me. You just take care of _you_ out there. I don’t want you to be distracted.”

He kissed her once, hard, and ran for the door. As it closed behind him, Jen sank to her knees on the floor and buried her face in her hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **(And please don’t point out that Excalibur wasn’t the Sword In The Stone. I KNOW. Jen was mixing up her legends. Bear with me on the Camelot stuff. It matters to the plot.)**
> 
>  
> 
> **Please read and review, reviews are like crack to writers and I need my fix!**


	46. Chapter Forty - Movie Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen is left behind in the Tower. Loki is creepy.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Wish You Were Here: Pink Floyd  
> (21st Century) Digital Boy: Bad Religion  
> The Player: The Levellers
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Marvel, except for my OC's Jacques and Jen.

“Take care of Jen,” was all Clint had time to say to Natasha as he passed her on the way out to the helipad.

“Of course,” was her calm response.

Clint ran over to the helicopter and yanked the door open. “Move, Agent Sitwell. No one flies me but me unless I’m unconscious.”

“But Agent – er, Mr Barton, sir, you’re not cleared to fly…” Jasper Sitwell trailed off at the look on his face and promptly unbuckled his flight harness. “As you say, sir.”

Natasha looked at Steve as the helicopter lifted off and buzzed away to the southwest.

_I’ll go to Jen._

“I’ll see you later, then,” Steve said, turning away, before realising that he’d read her unspoken words. “Hey!”

“Very good,” she praised, patting his arm. “I’m going to take Jen to Jane Foster’s lab. Keep her out of trouble. Jacques is with Stark – he’s as rude as Jen can be when she’s in a bad mood so Tony loves him – so will you go keep an eye on Banner?”

There was a tacit agreement among all the Tower residents that none of the three resident ‘mad scientists’ were to be left alone for too long. Darcy and Jacques did the brunt of the ‘babysitting’ but lately it had become quite hard to separate the two of _them,_ and since Pepper had just left on a business trip Tony was going to be even more badly behaved and annoying than usual and Jane refused to share his lab (consequently the machine on the gym floor). Thor minded Jane mostly, but that left both Tony and Bruce to keep an eye on. So Steve and Natasha were taking turns as well.

“Movies tonight?” Steve asked as they rode the elevator downwards. “What’s on?”

“We’re not done with classics from 1984 yet. _Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom_ is up tonight, followed by _The Terminator_.”

Steve brightened. “I liked _Raiders of the Lost Ark_.”

“Of course you did, it’s contemporary for you, but there’s no Nazis in this one. It’s set in India. You’ll like it anyway. And _Terminator_ – well let’s just say that Stark has a love/hate relationship with that movie and you can figure out why later.” The elevator stopped at Clint’s floor and Natasha stepped out, blowing a kiss to Steve. Who still blushed, dammit.

Natasha found Jen huddled in a heap on the floor, trying very, very hard not to cry and failing dismally. She sighed and sat down beside her, watching the smaller woman do her best to pull herself together now she had an audience.

“He’ll be fine. He’ll be back here before you know it aggravating the hell out of all of us with his weird penchant for sneaking up on people.”

“He’s never sneaked up on me – well, just the once,” Jen blushed, and Natasha raised her eyebrows. Sounded like a fun story. Maybe she could worm it out of Jen and use it for ammunition later.

“Really? You’re privileged. Clint thinks it’s funny to drop out of air ducts and try to ambush me. Even funnier to pull it on Stark, though fortunately he’s not daft enough to try it with Banner.”

That made Jen smile. “I’ve no doubt Tony deserves it.”

“And poor innocent me?”

A snort was the only response to that, and then Jen got to her feet, rubbing residual tears from her cheeks. “I don’t need a babysitter, you know.”

“No, considering that you’re a very smart engineer you’re amazingly _not_ in need of one,” Natasha said. “I’m actually here to invite you to come watch movies with us tonight. A bunch of us hang out in a big lounge and watch movies after dinner. It started off just me and Steve, but everyone kind of joined in and it’s become a bit of a team thing. There’s lots of popcorn and laughs. You’ve always been – busy, I guess, before.”

“That sounds good.” Jen rubbed her eyes fiercely with her fingers, realised she was still only wearing Clint’s T-shirt, and flushed. “I’ll just, er, get dressed. What time?”

“Dinner at seven. But until then, could you do me a favour?” Natasha called after her as she rushed off into the bedroom.

“Sure, what is it?”

“Could you babysit Jane Foster for me? Jacques is minding Tony and I’m afraid Darcy has deserted Jane in favour of his company.”

“You mean Jacques’ company, right?” Jen returned, dressed quickly in jeans and a shirt of her own. “Are they getting serious?”

“They’re certainly getting quite noisy in the next-door apartment to mine,” Natasha said dryly, and saw a flash of concern in Jen’s eyes. “Yes, I think they are. Darcy’s head over heels anyway. I daresay your brother is more likely to discuss how he feels with you rather than me, though.”

Jen had a chance to evaluate Jacques and Darcy together at dinnertime. Natasha helped Jen prepare pasta, garlic bread and salad for everyone – although the celery, tomatoes and cucumber in the salad were diced into pieces so small they were difficult to eat. No one commented, though, just ate enthusiastically. Jacques was sitting between Darcy and Tony Stark, who had taken a liking to the Aussie soldier and talked to him incessantly. Jen didn’t miss the way her brother sat close to Darcy, though, nor that once they had both finished eating Darcy put her hand on Jacques’ leg and he covered it with his own, playing gently with her fingers.

“All right, the movie is ready,” Natasha said, “JARVIS has _Indiana Jones and the Temple Of Doom_ ready for us.”

“More Indiana Jones? Good!” Thor boomed. “I like Indy!”

Loki sighed and drummed his fingers on the table. “Another idiot who wastes time on archaic weaponry,” he muttered.

 _Was that a dig at Clint?_ Jen’s eyes narrowed. She wondered if she was the only one who had picked that up. No, Natasha was glaring at Loki too.

“And after _Temple of Doom_ , some of us are watching _The Terminator_ ,” Natasha clipped out, “though I am afraid, Loki, that you aren’t invited. Frankly I don’t think you need any more bad ideas.”

“I don’t want to watch _that_ ,” Darcy shuddered, “not after Puente Antiguo…”

Jane, sitting on Darcy’s other side, shuddered as well, and Thor at once put his arm around her. “No, I think perhaps we will leave you after Indiana Jones, Lady Natasha,” he rumbled.

Jacques was looking at a pale-cheeked Darcy with concern. _There wasn’t much that fazed Darcy Lewis,_ Jen thought, _there was obviously a story behind this, and just as obviously it was Loki’s fault. Bloody Trickster_. She glanced across the table and caught Loki staring at her. He looked away just fast enough to make him look guilty.

There was a comfortable lounge room set up next door to the kitchen/dining area, with huge squashy couches and large beanbags on the floor. Stark – or perhaps Pepper – had obviously taken into account the fact that some of the Tower residents – specifically Steve, Thor and Loki – were extremely large people who weren’t going to be comfortable on regular furniture. Thor sat down on one of the couches with Jane and Darcy on either side of him: there was enough room beside Darcy for Jacques and he took the seat unhesitatingly.

Natasha curled like a cat on Steve’s lap as soon as he settled in the large armchair directly opposite the 80-inch TV. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner claimed the other couch, and Loki – somewhat to Jen’s surprise – flopped comfortably into a large beanbag on the floor. She hadn’t pegged him as a beanbag type. He glanced up at her, gave her a slight smile, and pushed another beanbag in her direction.

“Here, Jen. Unless you want to get squashed by trying to join in on the Thor pile, or your ear talked off by Stark critiquing the movie, I suggest you get comfortable.”

Jen glanced around. The only other available seat was indeed next to Tony Stark, and while she did actually quite like Tony – when he wasn’t being deliberately obnoxious – she had the feeling that as a movie companion he would probably be somewhat lacking. And she didn’t have to sit anywhere near Loki, did she? She grabbed the beanbag and hauled it a bit further away from him, ending up between Bruce’s and Steve’s feet. Catching Natasha’s eye she smiled a little sheepishly, but the Russian beauty smiled back with what Jen rather thought might be approval.

“Forgot the popcorn!” Tony jumped up and rushed back to the kitchen. “JARVIS, start up the Infinite Popcorn Machine…” his voice echoed back.

“Tell me it’s not actually an _infinite_ popcorn machine!” Jen said, suddenly nervous, having learnt rather more than she’d ever wished she had about Tony’s penchant for making overly complicated devices in the last couple of weeks.

“It’s not _now_ ,” Jane Foster said dryly, “now that I’ve fixed it, anyway.”

“Well someone come and help me carry it!” Tony shouted back, and Jen was already on her feet and moving when she realised Loki was ahead of her. She hesitated, and then made herself follow the tall, dark-haired Asgardian into the kitchen. Tony handed them two big tubs of popcorn each and told them to come back for more. Jen delivered her tubs to Thor and Jane, guessing correctly that Thor would eat both of them anyway, and returned to the kitchen. She almost bumped into Loki coming back out.

“Pardon me, Ginny. Jen! My apologies,” he murmured, and averted his green eyes. It wasn’t hard, all he had to do was look over her head. He had to be about six foot five, a good foot and a half taller than she.

“It’s all right,” Jen suddenly felt a bit sorry for Loki. Yes, he’d done some terrible things, but from what she’d heard, not entirely without reason, and he’d been forced into some of them. Perhaps he’d gone about things in a slightly less than normal way, but then, what was normal for Asgardians was obviously quite different. No extra-marital sex, for one thing.

 _Were Thor and Loki virgins?_ Jen’s eyes widened as she wondered. Well, that had to be a tough gig, falling in love with a woman who you could never have, only then to encounter her double centuries later, and discovering that you couldn’t have her either, due to your own actions. No, Loki was obviously suffering, and Clint wasn’t making it any easier on him. Clint had cause, of course…

Jen shook her head and took the last two popcorn tubs from Tony. She was on _Clint’s_ side. And Loki would just bloody well have to suck it up.


	47. Chapter Forty-One - Jurassic Deliverance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint goes hunting for - dinosaurs?
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Only Happy When It Rains: Garbage  
> Head Like A Hole: Nine Inch Nails  
> A Thousand Miles: Vanessa Carlton
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Marvel, excluding my OCs Jacques and Jen.

Clint walked out of the dilapidated house that had formerly housed a totally crazed geneticist – seriously, universities needed to start psych screening before letting people study these topics – and headed for the infra-red equipped helicopter waiting to take him up. Piloted by Agent Hill, one of very few people he would trust to fly him while he used the search scopes and, if necessary, a rifle, they were going to fly around some areas of the last sightings and see if they could track the creatures by body heat. It would be dark soon and fortunately the velociraptors were warm-blooded, so they should show up nice and sharp against the cold dark ground.

“Good evening, Agent Hill,” Clint greeted her.

“Agen – sorry, _Mister_ Barton.”

“How about you just call me Clint and I call you Maria?” he suggested, and saw her head whip around, her eyes widening, her body language closing up tight. “No, I’m not making a pass at you, don’t be stupid. I’ve got a girlfriend. Loosen up.”

Maria Hill didn’t think she could still be shocked by anything short of alien invasions. But to hear the taciturn-to-the-point-of-muteness former-Agent Barton speak to _anyone_ in such a casual manner? Deeply shocking.

“All right,” she said tentatively. “Since you’re now a consultant rather than a S.H.I.E.L.D. employee, it’s not a breach of protocol, I suppose. Clint.”

“Good. So get this bird up in the air, Maria. I’ve already wasted an hour talking to Fury and if I’m not back in New York by four o’clock tomorrow afternoon _someone’s_ going to suffer my wrath.”

“Do you know, I think I’ve heard you speak more words in the last five minutes than in the last two years,” Maria mused aloud over her headset as she lifted the chopper into the sky. “Even your post-mission debriefs usually consisted of ‘ _you sent me to kill them, they’re dead, job done._ ’ Your girlfriend’s obviously good for you.” She hesitated. “It’s not Agent Romanoff? Ms. Romanoff, I mean?”

“No!” Clint sighed and rolled his eyes, keeping his eyes on the screen in front of him. “Tasha and I are not involved, and we’re never going to be. It’d be like sleeping with my sister. Gross.”

Maria nodded, her eyes on her instruments. The light was going and soon they would be night-flying. She would need all her skill to keep them above the treetops, but low enough to make the infra-red useful. “So who’s the girlfriend?” she asked, ever mindful that S.H.I.E.L.D. would be interested in the information. If nothing else it might be useful leverage over Barton one day.

“Fury knows about her, you don’t need to interrogate me.”

Maria shrugged. “Well, if Fury knows about her, you don’t need to hide anything from me, do you, so tell me anyway. This is gonna be a long boring night otherwise, Clint.”

“Well, you gotta give me something back, Maria. Gonna share some of your personal life?”

She let out a bitter laugh. “I don’t have a personal life, Clint.”

“That’s a shame. Even Fury has a wife and three kids.”

“He _what_?” Only Maria’s exceptional skill kept her from jerking the control stick in her shock.

Clint grinned to himself. “I’m yanking your chain, Maria. No, in my personal opinion, our dear Director is eating his heart out over S.H.I.E.L.D.’s no-fraternization policy, particularly as regards a certain female deputy director he trusts more than anyone else alive.”

It was too dark for him to see if she blushed. The silence spoke volumes, though, and he said, not unkindly, “Sometimes rules are made to be broken, Maria.”

“Shut up and start looking for fucking dinosaurs,” she snapped.

Clint grinned and bent over the screens.

Five times that night they landed to check out a thermal signature, only to find first a deer, then a bear, then more deer. Twice they returned to the derelict homestead – now a base of operations for the search – to fuel up the helicopter. The second time, around three in the morning, Fury came out and spoke to them both, redirecting their search area according to new information received. It finally proved to be good information, and Clint took a shot from the air with his sniper rifle, bringing down the monstrous creature.

They landed to check it out, though Hill cautioned Clint not to touch any part of the animal. He whistled as they stood over it, both of them with weapons at the ready, though he had traded the rifle for his bow once they were out of the chopper and he had room to draw it.

“Damn, that’s horrible!” The velociraptor looked quite a lot like the ones from Jurassic Park, only bigger. It had to be close to seven feet tall, and the wickedly curved black claws glistening with some shiny liquid were close to six inches long.

“One down, two to go,” Maria sighed, keying her comm unit on. “Director Fury? Hill here. One target eliminated.”

“I’ll send the cleanup team to your location,” Fury responded crisply. “We have no new co-ordinates for you at this time so return to base, Agent. You and Barton should both get some rest and you’re right at the limit of your flying hours.”

Clint reached out and plucked Maria’s comm right off her ear, ignoring her outraged squawk. “Director, you’ve got me until three o’clock this afternoon, and then I’m heading back to Manhattan. I didn’t come here to sleep. If Agent Hill needs the rest, then find me another pilot.”

Fury hesitated for a moment. “Hill needs the rest. Barton – I don’t have any other pilots on your approved list available.”

“Then Hill can drop me off at a likely zone on her way back and I’ll hunt at ground level for a while.”

Neither Fury nor Hill liked the idea, but dawn would be breaking in a few hours. In the end they talked Clint into going back to the ranch, and then flying to a new search zone himself with a couple of moderately competent agents as backup once the sun came up. Clint didn’t like wasting the time, but he was honest enough with himself to admit that going out alone in the dark would be pretty reckless.

Instead he settled down at the computers back at the ranch, examining all the data they had so far, possible sightings, making some estimates at speed of travel of the creatures. Fury, seated at his own screens, kept glancing across at him.

They’d had an extremely uncomfortable conversation earlier when Clint decided he might as well come clean and spilled his guts about first what Loki had done to him, and then about Jen. And then he took his contact lenses out, leaned forward, getting right in Fury’s face, and warned him to stay the hell away from Jen. Fury had actually been slightly intimidated, not that he showed it. Mainly because of Barton’s newly spooky eyes. He’d thought the archer-assassin was a known quantity, just a gifted tool and a potential weapon against the superhumans who couldn’t be controlled. Now Barton was more than human himself.

Fury watched in silence as Barton touched screens, correlating data, reading at a dizzying rate. The man had never been a fool – poorly educated, due to his difficult upbringing, but smart. Now, however, he was working with a focus, speed and intensity that Fury had only ever seen a few people match. Tony Stark was one of them. Bruce Banner another.

“According to this,” Barton said suddenly, “the two velociraptors left are a male and a female. Was this idiot trying to breed a second generation?”

Fury shook off his thoughts. “It had to have been fucking difficult to gestate them the first time round, even though they’re oviparous. The man was mad enough to create them, why wouldn’t he want them to breed? But there was only the one male in the group, according to his records.”

“Well, when we find them we’d better make damn sure there ain’t any eggs left out there to hatch,” Clint said grimly, “or you’ll be calling me back in a few months to deal with another batch.”

“When you’ve killed the adults, Barton, we’ll sweep the forest inch by inch if we have to. We’ll find any eggs.”

“And destroy them?”

“Yes, dammit, the world doesn’t need creatures like this!”

“Good.” Clint hadn’t thought Fury would want to keep the eggs for research, but he wanted to be sure. He stood, stretched, and walked to the window to look out. “Dawn is coming. Who’ve you got to come out with me?”

Fury named three agents Clint knew, and he nodded. He’d had a hand in training all of them, and they were all competent for this job. He brought up a map on the computer and shaded in an area to mark his search zone. “We’ll go in here, there’s a little town on the highway. Residents have been reporting bear-proofed garbage bins being raided, couple of dogs disappeared, that sort of thing. Reckon the raptors might be lazy?”

“A lot of smart creatures are,” Fury said dryly, “including humans, for the most part.” He tapped his fingers on his desk for a moment. “Barton…”

On his way out the door, Clint turned. “Yes, Director?”

“How hard and fast is this three o’clock deadline of yours?”

“It takes an hour even by fast chopper to get from here to Avengers Tower, Director, and I need to be there by four.” He sighed. “I could probably come back again, be back by six or so.” He hated the thought of going to Jen and doing a fuck-and-run, but he couldn’t ignore the responsibility he had here to make sure no one else was hurt by these monsters. Jen would understand. She needed him three more times: perhaps in an hour they could take care of more than one. He grinned at the thought.

“I’m glad this is amusing for you, Barton,” Fury said angrily. “All right, I gave you my word. Bring your team back here by five to three and I’ll have a fuelled chopper waiting for you. And Agent Hill to fly you there and back again if these things aren’t all dead yet.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Okay, so the dinosaurs are shit. I was really struggling with a reason to get Clint, and ONLY Clint, out of the Tower for a certain period of time. Hey, look, there’s a SteveTasha Interlude coming up after tomorrow’s chapter! (ducks rotten tomatoes while trying to divert attention from the shit plot device).**
> 
> **But you can still read and review! Maybe the dinosaurs aren’t all that shit? They’re only in one more chapter (day after tomorrow) anyway! And it will lead to comedy snarky!Clint! (trying vainly to justify them).**


	48. Chapter Forty-Two - Boredom's A Dangerous Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen starts to feel unwell. Loki starts acting even more creepy.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Love Don’t Let Me Go: David Guetta  
> Ships: Big Country  
> Every Breath You Take: The Police
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Marvel, with the exception of my OC's Jacques and Jen.

Jen was beginning to feel vaguely unwell. She had watched through both movies – though only Natasha and Steve were left in the room with her by the end of the second one. They threw Tony out for being irritating half-way through Terminator, and Bruce followed him shortly afterwards, saying it was making him agitated.

When the credits rolled, Jen sighed and sat up. Turning around, she froze in surprise as she saw that Natasha was sound asleep on Steve’s lap, where she had been sitting throughout the evening. Her face was pressed into his strong throat, and Steve had his lips against her hair. He caught Jen’s eye, blushed, and moved his head back.

“Don’t, because of me,” Jen said quietly. “You two look beautiful together. I’ll leave you alone.” She slipped quietly out of the room and headed back to her and Clint’s apartment. Once she arrived, though, she paced about, agitated, not wanting to rest. _Was this how Clint had felt when he tried to stay away from her_? she wondered. She put a hand on her forehead and realised it was blazing hot. She felt achy and trembly, slightly queasy, her skin sensitive. She should probably consult Bruce, if he was up, and at this time of night it was pretty much guaranteed that he would be.

Bruce looked up, surprised, at the tentative tap on his lab door after midnight, but on seeing Jen he smiled and went over to let her in. He’d restricted access to his lab with a mechanical lock because Tony kept wandering in and fiddling with things. And while Tony was a whiz with many things, he’d never learned to pick locks, and neither Natasha nor Clint planned to teach him.

“Hey, Jen. How are you feeling?”

“Not so great,” she sighed, flopping down in one of his lab chairs. “Feverish, achy, a bit sick. Like I’ve got the flu, but no runny nose or sore throat.”

“Sounds like Clint felt,” Bruce said sympathetically. “I know Loki said twenty-four hours, but it did come on quicker. It was more like forty-eight before he started manifesting any worse symptoms, though. A couple of Advil might help?”

Jen shook her head. “It’s not that bad. I think I feel worse because I’m bored, and I’m worrying about Hawk, and I can’t sleep. Neither of us seem to want much sleep.”

“I asked Thor about that. Asgardians like to have a six-to-eight hour sleep every four or five days. They don’t seem to need any more than that. Because the transformation spell was designed to allow humans to keep up with Asgardians, it causes your body chemistry to change to almost match theirs, so it’s likely you’ll want the same amount of sleep.”

They talked for a while, Bruce gave Jen a quick health check and noted her temperature, and then one of his experiments finished and she began to feel as though she was in the way. She left and headed for the machine labs, but Tony was there in one of his manic moods and she backed away very quietly before he saw her and roped her in. She wandered down to the gym to see if Jane Foster was working on her machine, but all was dark.

“Where’s Dr Foster, JARVIS?” she asked.

“Dr Foster is currently in the apartment of Prince Thor Odinson, Miss Svendson,” JARVIS said primly.

Jen’s eyebrows raised and she grinned. “Good on her. And – my brother?”

“Asleep in his suite, Miss Svendson.”

“Is he with Miss Lewis?”

“Yes, Miss Svendson.”

“I’ll not disturb them, then.” Jen sighed, and headed back up to her rooms. At least she could work on her computer in peace. But after half an hour she found she couldn’t sit still, roaming around, fetching a drink, deciding she was hungry and grabbing an apple. She ate it, washed her hands, checked out her eyes in the bathroom mirror, roamed around a bit more and threw herself down on the bed in disgust.

Damn, but she missed Clint! She couldn’t even call him. He’d taken his phone, but warned her it would be switched off. In the end she got up and grabbed her running clothes. She didn’t feel at all well, but she might as well run as not, and the scent of Clint in their apartment was making her crazy.

Downstairs in the gym, Jen was surprised to find Loki. He was working out in silence, performing a series of moves on the mats. She didn’t recognise the style: it looked somewhere between _savate_ and _capoeira_ , quick, brutal and graceful, even in the _kata_ of sorts he was performing. He ignored her as she moved quietly to one of the treadmills and began to run.

Plugging in her music, Jen ignored Loki. She was surprised to find him standing nearby when she finished her run, obviously waiting to speak to her.

“Good morning, Lady Jen,” he said.

“Good morning, Loki. Please call me Jen,” she responded politely, going to get a drink of water from the water fountain.

“You are not yet completely transformed, and yet Barton has left you,” Loki said. Jen cocked her head at him.

“You sound bloody judgemental for someone with a pretty poor track record on considering the feelings of other people, mate. Butt out of my business.”

Loki’s green eyes widened with surprise. And then narrowed again. “I only wished to offer you relief. You are not feeling well, and I can help you with that.”

“Yeah, I heard how you want to _help me out_ ,” Jen sneered. “But I don’t think I’d care for your methods, Loki. In fact, I’m telling you now, you touch me and I’ll put a knife in your guts, not just my boot.” He absolutely terrified her. But Jen had spent her entire life being smaller and more vulnerable than everyone else she met. Backing down from or giving in to bullies was not something she was ever going to do. So she stuck her small chin out and glared Loki down.

“I only meant…”

“I don’t care what you meant. The answer is no thanks. I’m _fine_.” She turned her back and stalked away. She’d had the last word, and now it was time to get the hell out of here.

Back in the apartment, she sagged against the door, panting with terror. She’d felt like a mouse in a cage, watching a snake come closer and closer, jaws slowly opening to swallow her whole. In the end she shook her head to clear it and staggered off to the shower, unaware that Loki had been standing outside the apartment door for the last few minutes, listening to her ragged, panicky breathing and smiling to himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **What _does_ Loki want? (cue creepy music)**
> 
>  
> 
> **And stay tuned – there will be a SteveTasha Interlude up shortly…**


	49. Chapter 42a - SteveTasha Interlude 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Natasha take their relationship to the next level. (Yes. That means S.E.X.)
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except for my OC's Jacques and Jen.

Steve looked down at the sleeping woman in his arms and smiled to himself. It was the second time she’d fallen asleep on him. He remembered with amusement the night when she’d crashed out in the limo, smashed on vodka and exhaustion after the battle. _What would have happened if she hadn’t passed out?_ he wondered. She’d fully intended to seduce him, she’d made that quite clear.

He sighed and stood up, taking her slight weight with him easily, arranging her more comfortably in his arms. She seemed so fragile to him, despite her strength. He walked to the elevator, quietly telling JARVIS that he needed to take Natasha back to her apartment. The AI let him in without comment, and he carried Natasha to her bed, unable to resist taking a look around at the apartment which he hadn’t been in yet. It was beautiful; opulent fabrics bringing a touch of glamour draped over simple but obviously high-quality furniture. Her bed was stunning; a cherry-wood four-poster hung with gauzy golden drapes and a black and gold bedspread over black silk sheets.

Steve bent to lay Natasha gently on the bed, and to his astonishment her arms slid up around his neck and she held onto him. “Stay,” she whispered softly in his ear.

He froze. Just totally froze up, unable to move a muscle. She tugged gently at his shoulders. “Steve. I want you to stay with me. We don’t have to do anything, if you don’t want to. Just sleep beside me. Hold me. Sometimes – I just want to be held.”

“Okay,” he said on a long, gasping breath. “I can do that.” _I THINK I can do that_.

“Good. Now get comfortable,” she wriggled away from him and disappeared into the bathroom. Steve sat down on the bed and slowly unlaced his boots. What did she mean by comfortable? He decided that meant his underwear and T-shirt, and stripped down to that.

Obviously Natasha had different standards of sleeping attire than he did. He gulped as she came out of the bathroom, silhouetted by the light behind her. She’d straightened her hair today and it fell to her shoulders – her _bare_ shoulders – in a soft crimson cloak. The short emerald-green silk nightgown she wore was barely held up by the flimsiest of straps, and it clung to her body, leaving – well, pretty much nothing to the imagination.

Steve stared and stared, unable to move, glad he had climbed into bed and pulled the cover over himself, because his arousal was very obvious. How in hell was he supposed to sleep beside Natasha looking like _that_ and _not_ touch her? He gulped again and reached for his jeans. “I’d better go.”

“Why?” she came walking towards him, and he froze, mesmerised by the sway of her hips. “Don’t leave me, Steve,” there was a plaintive note in her voice.

“You…” he had to swallow, to get some moisture in his mouth. “You’re manipulating me.” He didn’t _want_ her to be the Black Widow for him.

“I’m trying to point out a truth to you,” she said on a soft sigh, and to his horror she straddled his body on the bed, pushing him to lie down, settling her hips above his groin. There was no way that she could _not_ tell he was _extremely_ aroused.

“What – what truth?” he choked, staring up at her.

“The truth that I want _you_ just about as much as you want _me_ right now,” she ground deliberately against him, and he couldn’t stifle a moan. “You _do_ want me, don’t you, Steve?” she leant forward and kissed the edge of his mouth. “Don’t you?” and this time, he had the feeling that the plaintive, nervous uncertainty in her voice was real.

“I want you more than I want to _breathe_ right now,” he said raggedly, grabbed Natasha by the waist and rolled them so that she was beneath him. “Are you sure about this, Tasha? You want _me_?” She was so _damned_ beautiful, milky white skin against the black silk sheets, her red hair like flames around her face. And dear _God_ , but he wanted to be burned!

“All of you,” she whispered, reaching up to frame his face with her hands, gazing deep into his blue eyes. “And I am yours, for as long as you want me.”

He had no doubt that she could have convinced him with a few sure touches to the right spots on his body. She _was_ the Black Widow, after all, assassin, seductress, siren. But she held his face in her hands and looked into his eyes, leaving the decision to him.

“I – I’m not very good at this,” he confessed softly, “I’ve only ever – a couple of times – there was a girl when I was on tour with the troupe…”

Natasha smiled, a little sadly, and he had a pretty good idea of what she was thinking, that she had enough experience for the both of them, and plenty more besides. “You’ll do fine,” was all she said. And then she slid her hands down his back and pulled the hem of his T-shirt up.

“Don’t think about it,” he said hoarsely, letting her pull the shirt off over his head. “I don’t want you to think about your past – about anyone else – about anyone but _me_ when I make love to you. Because I am _making love_ to you, not _using_ you.”

“I was always told that love was for children,” Natasha said, stroking her hands up his back, marvelling at the strength, the pure power of him. “But I – begin to doubt. Love me, Steve. Please love me.”

“Always.” His tongue felt thick in his mouth as he clumsily slid one strap of the delicate nightgown off her milky shoulder. She shrugged slightly and the strap slid away. He followed it with his mouth, feeling Natasha sigh and move gently beneath him.

She gave him honesty: perhaps the only thing she had saved of her innocence. She took his hand to show him what she liked and he learned fast, coaxing moans and gasps from her lips. She surrendered that last little piece of herself when she let him bring her to an orgasm, something she had not permitted herself to experience in more years than she cared to think about, because with that kind of pleasure came addiction.

Steve lay quiet beside her, his hand stroking gently along her flank, when Natasha opened her eyes. She turned her head to smile at him, and he kissed her tenderly. “I did it right?” he asked.

“Perfect,” she told him sincerely, and then she rolled on top of him. “Now it’s my turn to take care of _you_.”

“You don’t have to – oh my Lord God in heaven,” Steve gasped out as her slender hands began to work their magic, one hand cupping and rolling his swollen balls with just the right pressure to make his eyes roll back in his head, the other teasing lightly over the weeping slit of his cock.

“Sh,” Natasha whispered against his chest, “close your eyes and let me give you back the gift you just gave me.”

“Tasha…” his arms folded around her, holding her close, as she stroked him. “Please – please, I want you. I want you so much.”

“Yes,” she hadn’t intended this tonight, actually, but he asked her for so little. She wouldn’t deny him, not when she wanted him too. Gently she eased herself down on him, feeling the leashed power in his body as he strained against her, listening to the broken noises that escaped his lips, making a soft sound herself as his hardness rubbed over already sensitized flesh.

They moved together, awkward briefly, then learning the other’s rhythm, smoother and quicker, rougher, gasping, sweat slicking both their bodies until finally Steve broke, crying out her name and surging up into her with a force that jerked Natasha over the edge again as well, much to her surprise.

They lay in each other’s arms, sweating, breathing hard, unable to separate. Natasha laid her head down on Steve’s chest and drifted off to sleep right there with him still inside her, feeling, for the first time that she could remember, utterly, totally _happy_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: THERE. Happy now, SteveTasha fans? They get it on at last and it’s gooood.**
> 
>  
> 
> **I’ve been asked several times if this will be its own story. All I can say right now is – maybe. I’ve got so many damn plot bunnies to deal with I think the bloody rodents are breeding.**
> 
>  
> 
> **And please leave me more reviews! I love reviews! Reviews make me happy and write faster (true)**


	50. Chapter Forty-Three - True Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The dinosaur hunt comes to a rather dramatic end, and Clint heads back to the Tower.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Hero: Enrique Iglesias  
> Always: Saliva  
> Room To Breathe: You Me At Six
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except for Jacques and Jen who are MINE.

It was past noon when Clint finally found the traces he was looking for. There’d been odd tracks all around the little woodland community, and he suspected his guess about the velociraptors was right. They were lazy. And perhaps the female had a clutch of eggs and the male wouldn’t leave her – or maybe the male brooded over them and the female fetched food for him, he really didn’t care at the moment. What mattered was finding the fucking things and killing them in the next – he checked his watch – hour and a half. And they couldn’t be far, because the scat he’d just come across was fresh.

Clint made the decision to call it in, asking for backup. The better they could confine the raptors, the less chance one of them could escape the net. Fury agreed, and every agent within range was mobilised into the forest within fifteen minutes, slowly tightening the loop on Clint’s best guess of the target’s location.

Maria Hill and Fury had both come out to assist. Fury, for once, had put aside his black leather and was wearing woodland fatigues like everyone else. Hill filled them out better, Clint thought, and knew for sure the Director had the same opinion when he caught Fury looking at Hill’s ass. He grinned and turned his attention back to the trees.

There was a sudden crashing noise up ahead and Clint snapped his bow up, drawing the string back, sighting – and there it was. He loosed just as guns cracked from Fury and Hill, and the beast went down with a ghastly scream, cut off by the explosion as the arrow stuck through its eye socket blew up in its cranium.

“Exploding arrows?” Fury said. “Isn’t that overkill, Barton?”

“No, sir,” Clint nocked another arrow. “Not considering the contact poison. I want to make absolutely fucking sure that these things aren’t thrashing around half dead.”

“A wise precaution,” Hill said, nodding approvingly, and then there was a confused blur of motion directly above them and _something_ came crashing down out of the trees.

Clint loosed his arrow, knowing even as he let it go that it would hit and explode. Whatever was falling out of the trees was as good as dead, but the arrow wouldn’t stop it from landing directly on top of Agent Hill.

The explosion was close enough to blind and deafen, or it would have been if it hadn’t been contained within the body of the velociraptor that was trying to jump them. There was no scream, this time, just a massive dead dinosaur plummeting down on the woman below.

The scream came from Nick Fury. “MARIA!” He plunged forward, grabbing at the beast.

“Director, the claws!” Clint tried to pull him away, but Fury threw him off with almost superhuman strength.

“Maria, oh God, my Maria!” He grabbed at an upper limb of the beast and yanked with all his strength, managing to flip it over away from Hill, at once pulling off his gloves and throwing them after the carcass. Agent Hill lay huddled on the ground, face down, unmoving. Fury went to his knees beside her. “Maria, please wake up,” he pleaded, in a soft voice Clint had never heard from him in all the years he had known the Director. “Please don’t die on me.” There was a wet-looking spot on the back of her jacket, and Fury snapped “Barton, a knife! This is the poison, we have to cut the jacket off…”

Clint crouched at Fury’s side and pulled a knife from each boot. “Let me,” he said quietly as he saw Fury’s hands were shaking. Carefully, he eased the tip of one knife under a nearby seam, lifting the fabric away from Maria’s body, and used the other to start cutting. After a few seconds he had the wet fabric cut away. Thank God, Maria was wearing a Kevlar vest underneath. That would stop the poison soaking through. He cut that off as well, to be safe, and used his knives to flick all the contaminated gear towards the raptor’s dead body.

The rest of his team were standing staring at them uncertainly. Clint waved them away, and after a moment they all turned and moved off. They’d start looking for the nest he was betting had to be around here someplace. Maybe up in that tree. Goddamn it, who’d have thought the bloody things could climb _trees_?

“Maria,” Fury had lifted Hill in his arms now, moving her away from the dead velociraptor, turning her over, stroking her face with one shaking hand. Clint suddenly felt like an intruder, especially as Hill’s top half was now clad only in a black sports bra. He turned away, gathering his weapons. His knives, he reluctantly tossed on the contaminated pile. They might have picked up some poison, and he didn’t want to risk it.

“Nick?” he heard behind him, a breathy gasp from Agent Hill. “Director Fury – what happened?”

“Thank God you’re alive,” Fury gulped, and Clint walked away quickly. He really didn’t think he could stand it if Fury cried. Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Hill half-sitting up, supported by Fury’s arms around her – or perhaps it was her arms around his neck holding her upright. Whatever it was, they were certainly doing their best to kiss the breath out of each other!

Checking his watch, Clint scowled. It was ten past three. Turning, he jogged back towards Fury.

“Sorry to interrupt your touching little moment of mutual revelation,” he said, “but I’m running late.”

“Agent Hill is in no fit state to fly you back to New York, Barton,” Fury said, lifting his head, apparently not at all perturbed to be caught thoroughly kissing his deputy. “She’s only just recovered consciousness.”

“Indeed, and she doesn’t seem to be getting enough air right now, either. Nevertheless, I need to be getting back. Now. I’ll take Sitwell with me; he can bring your chopper back.”

“Whatever,” Fury grumbled. Hill was lying in his arms still, her face turned wonderingly up to his, one of her slender hands against his scarred cheek. “Fuck off then. You’ve done your job. The check’ll be in the mail.”

“Thanks, Director,” Clint turned to head back in the direction of town. Pausing before he was out of their earshot, he called back “And about bloody time, you two!” His only answer was Fury’s lifted middle finger.

Clint ran the four miles back to town at a fast pace. Collecting the chopper he’d left there, he made a quick stop at the homestead base to collect Sitwell.

“I don’t get what’s so urgent you have to get back to New York for this afternoon,” Sitwell muttered ungraciously when Clint dragged him out of the bunk where he’d been having a sleep.

“None of your fucking business,” Clint said cheerfully. “Job’s done anyway. Three dead velociraptors, delivered.”

“Is that your mission debrief?” Sitwell said sarcastically.

“Yes,” Clint grinned to himself. “I’m a contractor now. Don’t have to do paperwork any more. Besides, Fury witnessed it all. He can fill in the gaps.” He switched on his phone, just before starting the chopper engines. “JARVIS?”

“Mr Barton, sir. Is all well?”

“Yes, job’s done. I’m heading back now. Be there in about an hour.” With one eye on Sitwell, Clint said “Everything okay there?”

“Everything is under control, sir,” JARVIS said smoothly. “Your team are looking forward to your return.”

Clint read between the lines and didn’t particularly like the message. “On my way,” he said crisply, cut the line, and stabbed the button to start the chopper’s massive engines. He pushed the chopper right to the limits of its performance all the way to New York, using S.H.I.E.L.D. override codes to get himself preferential routes through air traffic, all the while ignoring the muttering, sulking Sitwell beside him.

“So just what’s so fucking urgent?” Sitwell said at last, as Clint settled the chopper delicately down on the Tower’s landing pad and cut the engines. Steve and Bruce were waiting, he saw, and came jogging towards him, but Bruce was smiling, so there couldn’t be bad news.

“I have a date,” Clint said with a grin, and slipped out. “Hey, guys. Whassup?”

“Hey, Clint. I’ll get your weapons,” Steve said, yanking the chopper’s rear door open.

“Cheers. Bruce?” They walked away from the helicopter, but Clint kept his voice down, not wanting Sitwell to hear. “Is Jen okay?”

“She’s fine,” Bruce patted his shoulder reassuringly, and brought his hand away, making a face. “You, however, are covered in mud and – leaf mold? Yeuch.”

“I’ll go shower. _Where_ is Jen?”

“In the swimming pool. She figured out while she was in the shower that water makes her skin feel better. She had to get out of your apartment because it smells like you and she was going crazy, so she went to the pool. Natasha’s keeping her company. I’ll let them know you’re back and Natasha can bring her up to your apartment.”

“Thanks – I’ll go wash off!” Clint grinned at Bruce and ran for the elevator. JARVIS had it ready for him.

“Welcome back, Mr Barton. A successful mission?” the AI asked.

“Yes, thanks, JARVIS. Can you keep anyone from interrupting Jen and I for an hour or two, and order in some dinner? Chinese, maybe.”

“Certainly, Mr Barton. I have both your and Miss Svendson’s preferences in my database.”

Clint smiled and stepped out of the elevator as it pinged open on his floor. Letting himself into his apartment, he headed straight for the shower, peeling his filthy fatigues off and dropping them down the laundry chute on the way. He’d better make it a quick shower: he suspected Jen would be flying in through the door any minute and throwing herself on him.

Scrubbing thoroughly, he rinsed away all the muck on his skin and in his hair. He turned the water off and reached for a towel, rubbing his hair quickly and wrapping it around his waist as he stepped out of the shower stall. A movement in the mirror caught his eye and he turned with a welcoming smile for Jen.

“Hello, Barton,” Loki said with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Uh-oh…**
> 
> **DA DA DA DUNNNNN!!!!**
> 
> **(and no more dinosaurs. Promise.)**


	51. Chapter Forty-Four - The Trickster

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Paralysed: Finger Eleven  
> Escape: Enrique Iglesias  
> Joker And The Thief: Wolfmother
> 
> ******WARNING******
> 
>  
> 
> **This chapter contains a potential trigger scene featuring an _attempted_ m/f rape. Read on at your own risk. This is the start of the “finale” of the storyline.**
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel except for my Svendson family of OCs.

“What the fu…” was all Clint managed before Loki touched him, a cold fingertip pressing against his throat, and suddenly he couldn’t make a sound. The coldness spread with lightning speed through his body, stiffening his limbs. He fought it, trying frantically to throw a punch, pull away, do _anything_ , but he couldn’t move. Just stood there frozen.

“Very good,” Loki purred. “Without the sceptre, I can’t make you serve me, Barton. But I _can_ make you wish for death. I’m about to steal your mate, you see. Foolish, foolish Hawk. Leaving her before you’d completed her transformation, but after finishing your own. You’ve bound yourself to her for all eternity, but the reverse isn’t yet true.”

Clint couldn’t move. Could barely breathe. But his eyes showed his rage as he glared at the Trickster.

“And now I’m about to steal her for my own. Your soul will never be complete, Barton. You’ll spend all your lives forever searching, desperate to find your mate, knowing deep inside you that she’s out there _somewhere_ , but you’ll never have her. Because I’m going to bind her to _me_.”

 _“_ Jen will _never_ love you,” Clint managed to get a very faint whisper out, and Loki, still standing close, obviously heard him, because he smiled wickedly.

“Of course she will. Because she will see _you_.” He glanced at the mirror. Clint could just turn his eyes that far – and oh, God, no, there were two images of himself in the reflection. “She will see you right up until the point I give her the best orgasm of her life. And then I will show her who is _really_ fucking her.”

“How you gonna do that? _Virgin_ ,” if all Clint could do was give Loki performance anxiety, then that’s what he’d do. The Asgardian’s green eyes flashed with rage, and then he looked around. He grabbed Clint with brutally strong hands and lifted him, pulling him into the bedroom roughly and standing him stiffly in the corner, with a full view of the bed. He touched Clint’s eyelids with those horrible cold fingertips and to Clint’s fury he realised his eyes were now frozen open. Oh hell no, he was gonna have to _watch_!

Loki stepped back, nodded and then moved his hands slowly in a criss-cross pattern through the air in front of him, murmuring something under his breath. The air shimmered, and Clint suspected Loki had just put up something like an invisible one-way mirror. Clint could see out, but Jen wouldn’t be able to see him. Loki smirked in satisfaction and turned away.

Clint strained every muscle in his body as Loki walked away to the bathroom. He felt as though he was going to rip apart, he was struggling so hard, but it was no use. He couldn’t move. His lips had been slightly parted speaking when Loki had touched him, and his tongue still seemed to work, but he couldn’t make a sound louder than a breath come out.

Loki walked back out of the bathroom, dressed in only a towel just as Clint was, and smiled at him. “She should be here any moment. Ah.”

They both heard the outer door opening, and Jen’s voice saying exasperatedly; “Tasha, he’s back, Bruce said he’s fine, and if I let you in this apartment right now you’re going to tell me later you want eye bleach. _Go away_.”

 _No, let her in!_ Clint screamed mentally. Surely Tasha would notice there was something off about Loki; she knew Clint too well to be fooled. But the outer door slammed and Jen came running into the bedroom – she too was wearing a towel, and she dropped it as she ran to reveal a stunning turquoise-blue bikini that at any other time would have made Clint's tongue hang out with the way she filled it.

“Hawk!” and she threw herself into Loki’s waiting arms. Loki turned smoothly to deposit her on the bed – of course, he was taller than Clint and that might not be so easy to obscure with illusions as facial features – and came down on top of her. Jen clutched at him and they started kissing.

Clint felt bile rising in his throat. Loki glanced over him, smirking, as Jen grabbed his towel and pulled it away.

“Did you miss me, babe?” Loki murmured in a perfect imitation of Clint’s voice.

“Of course – are you okay?” She reached up to touch his face gently, smiling when he nodded. “Let’s talk later – make love to me now. Please. I _need_ you.”

“Anything you want, babe,” and Loki was deftly removing her bikini, his hands light on her skin. Clint wished desperately he could close his eyes as he watched Loki smile and begin kissing across Jen’s stomach, watched Jen writhe and gasp under the Trickster’s touch. Clint had seen and done and suffered some terrible things in his life, but this – this was worse than any torture. Because Jen was quite clearly enjoying herself.

“Ohhh, Hawk,” she sighed.

“You feel so good, babe,” Loki muttered in a choked voice. He was kneeling between Jen’s legs, looking down at her breasts and his hands caressing them, not looking at her face.

Only Clint saw Jen’s eyes widen, and she looked suddenly curious.

“Clint?”

“You’re so beautiful, babe – I missed you too,” Loki kissed her again hungrily, not noticing that her hand had slipped down into the small gap between the mattress and headboard.

“What did you call me?”

“What?” Loki lifted his head – and Jen put the muzzle of the pistol between his eyes.

“I _said_ , what did you call me?”

“Jen, what the hell is this? What’s wrong with you? Should I call Bruce – you need a doctor…”

“I need you to tell me something.” Jen’s finger was tightening on the trigger, and Loki moved slowly backwards, lifting his hands up.

“Anything, what is it? I love you, you know that. Why are you doing this?”

“I need you to tell me what I said to Stark when he offered me a job.”

Clint was both inwardly cheering and terrified for Jen at the same time. He wasn’t sure what had made her pick up on Loki’s deception, but the Asgardian was dangerous. He could very well kill them both yet. Or rape Jen and force her to his will by magic – Clint had all too much knowledge of what the bastard was capable of.

Loki glanced quickly at the corner where Clint stood. “I – don’t remember right now, Jen. Look at you, you’re so beautiful you drive everything else out of my head…”

“Shut. The. Fuck. Up. _JARVIS_!” Jen yelled it at the top of her lungs. “I need reinforcements in here, right now!”

“Right away, Miss Svendson,” JARVIS replied, and if an AI could sound surprised, then he did. Loki must have worked out a way to fool the tech with doppelgangers and illusions, Clint figured.

“Jen, this is ridiculous.” Loki made a sudden grab for the gun, and Jen pulled the trigger.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
> **Comments???**
> 
>  
> 
> **Pretty please???**


	52. Chapter Forty-Five - Only You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki shows his true colours and Clint and Jen must fight back.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Against All Odds: Phil Collins  
> True Colours: Cyndi Lauper  
> A Better Man: Thunder
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters, except for Jen and Jacques.

Clint found himself suddenly able to move as Loki’s spell on him vanished, the Trickster’s control breaking with the sudden agony of the gunshot wound. Clint lunged forward, through the invisible screen, and fell to his knees, his muscles screaming with agony. Jen swung the gun towards him wildly. She’d put the bullet through Loki’s shoulder, not his head, but the force of the hollow-point 9mm round – and boy, was Clint ever glad that she’d obviously discovered the PPK he kept stashed under there – fired at such close range threw Loki back off her.

“You called Stark a _fucking pimp_ Jen, it’s me!”

At once she swung the gun back the other way, pointing it at Loki again. The Asgardian clawed at his shoulder in astonishment, staring at the blood on his hand.

“You _shot_ me!” His illusion faded, and Jen tightened her finger on the trigger.

“ _Loki_ ,” she hissed. Whether she would have shot him again would remain forever a mystery, though, because right then Iron Man came smashing in through the balcony doors, glass shattering all over the floor on that side of the bed.

“Oh, this does not look good,” Tony’s voice came out mechanically as he landed, and then he put up his face plate. He looked from the naked, trembling, armed Jen on the bed, to naked, bleeding Loki, to Clint on his knees wearing only a towel. “This _really_ doesn’t look good.”

The apartment’s outer door crashed open and Steve and Natasha came racing in, Natasha with a gun in either hand. Natasha took in the situation with one glance and turned both guns on Loki.

“You _bastard_ ,” she hissed.

“LOKI!” Thor’s voice boomed as he came striding in. His Asgardian robes had manifested, Clint saw, and at the sight of his brother Loki staggered to his feet and manifested his own robes, though he left off his Reindeer Games helmet. “What is going _on_ here?”

“I would _really_ love to know the answer to that question,” Tony said, “but first, please tell me Hulk isn’t out?”

“Not yet,” Banner said dryly from the doorway, “though he’s not very happy right now.”

Steve had averted his eyes from Jen’s body, and he moved slowly, obviously not wanting to startle her as she still held Clint’s gun in shaking fingers. He pulled off the plaid shirt he wore over a T-shirt and carefully placed it across her shoulders. Steve was so massive his shirt draped her like a tent, completely concealing her nudity from view.

“Let me take the gun, honey,” he drawled softly. “You’re safe now. We’re all here. Let me take the gun.”

“I’ll shoot him for you if we decide he needs shooting again, Jen,” Natasha said coolly, and at those words Jen let Steve slip the gun from her trembling hands.

“Hawk,” she sobbed, and Clint scrambled up onto the bed beside her, ignoring his screaming muscles, and dragged her into his arms, turning her around so she was hidden from Loki by his body. She clung to him, shaking and sobbing against his chest.

“Get him out of here,” Clint said roughly, jerking his head toward Loki. “Lock him the fuck up somewhere, borrow Fury’s prison, I don’t care, but if I ever see him near Jen again _I will kill him_.”

Thor opened his mouth, perhaps to protest, but Steve put a hand on his arm. “Thor! We might not know exactly what is going on here, but there is _no scenario_ where it is reasonable for Loki to be naked in Clint and Jen’s bedroom right now!”

That was – inarguable. Thor closed his mouth and grabbed Loki’s uninjured arm roughly. “Let us be gone from here, brother. I do not know what you think you were doing, but even Mother may not forgive you this time if this really _is_ what it looks like.”

Loki went even paler, if that were possible, and meekly let Thor drag him out of the room, Natasha following with her guns trained on his back. Steve stood holding Clint’s PPK in his hand a bit uncertainly, and Banner stood beside him, arms folded, waiting.

“That could possibly be used as evidence against Jen,” Clint nodded towards the gun. “Get rid of it.”

“I – but…” Steve looked at the gun in his hand. Tony sighed and took it off him, tucking it into a gap that opened up in his armour.

“I’ll get rid of it for you, Barton. Come on, guys. Let’s leave these two alone. Even I can see that’s what they need right now. Sorry about the mess, by the way,” he nodded at the shattered glass all over the floor. “Let JARVIS know when you’re ready to emerge and I’ll have it fixed up.” And he activated his thrusters and zoomed back out the window.

“Yes. Well,” Steve shuffled his feet. “You’re all right?”

“Any injuries?” Banner asked quietly. “Jen? Do you want me to do a rape kit, or find a female doctor for you? I could probably talk Tasha or Jane through it…”

Jen shook her head, sniffling, fighting down her shocked tears.

“It didn’t get that far,” Clint said. “Jen somehow figured out he wasn’t me. He had put on an illusion of my face and froze me up in the corner, forced me to watch, though Jen couldn’t see me.”

Bruce _growled_. Everyone else in the room went very still.

“Everything’s fine!” Jen babbled hastily. “ _I’m_ fine, he hardly touched me, I put a bullet in him, he totally deserved it!” Even she wasn’t reckless enough to want to meet Hulk.

Bruce started taking slow, deep breaths, his eyes closed. After a moment, he opened them again, and walked slowly over to Jen. “You’re really all right?” He bent and looked in her eyes.

“I’m really fine,” she gave him a slightly watery smile, clinging to Clint. “If you feel the need to Hulk out, go take it out on Loki.”

“No,” Bruce shook his head. “The Other Guy likes you, Jen, he just wants to know you’re safe.”

“Thanks. I think?”

Bruce smiled at her, and looked at Clint. “What about you – Loki do you any damage?”

He shook his head. “He touched me and it kind of froze me, but when Jen shot him the spell broke. I’d been struggling against the spell and my muscles hurt, but I’m okay now.”

“All right,” Bruce glanced around the room. “I’d say we’ll leave you alone, but with that shattered window it might not be the best idea.”

“My apartment’s below this one,” Steve said. “You can use it – I – er – can sleep elsewhere.”

“I’ll take you up on that,” Clint said after a glance at the mess. The wind was howling in through the smashed glass doors, too. They _were_ over seventy stories up. “Just give us five minutes to get some clothes on.”

“Of course. I’ll go grab whatever I might need and leave the place to you. I’ll tell JARVIS to open up for you.” Steve and Bruce retreated.

“Jen,” Clint whispered into her hair after holding her close for a few minutes. “We need to get out of here. Let me put something on you.”

She gestured to her dresser, where one of his T-shirts lay. He got up and grabbed it, carefully avoiding the few shards of glass that had made it this far, returned and pulled it over Jen’s head. She put her arms into the sleeves and discarded Steve’s shirt. Clint grabbed cargo pants and a clean T-shirt of his own, shoved his feet barefoot into his boots and reached for Jen.

“Let me carry you. The floor’s covered in glass.”

Jen put her arms around his neck and clung to him as he carried her out, doors opening silently for him until he laid her down on a clean, white, freshly made bed. And thank God for Steve’s temporal confusion, because until he was more comfortable in this time he had chosen to keep everything very simple, and his room was as bland and calming as a hotel room.

“I want – I want to wash,” she whispered against his neck. “His hands…” she shuddered, and Clint nodded and lifted her again, carrying her to the bathroom.

“He’ll never come near you again,” Clint promised in a low, harsh voice, turning the shower on and watching as she dragged his shirt off with shaking hands.

“Come in with me,” she begged, and he pulled his own hastily donned clothes off and followed her unhesitatingly into the stall, holding her tight when she turned to him and put her arms around him, the warm water pouring over both of them.

After a couple of minutes Clint reached for the shower gel and began to wash Jen, starting on her back, moving around to her arms and her breasts, keeping his touch gentle and impersonal. He went to his knees and washed her legs. Jen leaned back against the wall of the shower and closed her eyes.

“How did you know he wasn’t me?” Clint had to know as he gently rinsed the soap from her thighs.

“It felt wrong from the moment he kissed me,” Jen said, her eyes still closed. “I had trouble thinking at first. I wasn’t feeling great. Bit feverish, itchy skin, you know. And then he called me ‘ _babe’_. _Four_ _times_. And I realised _nothing_ was right. The way he – you – was looking at me. The way his hands felt; it didn’t stop the itching in my skin when he touched me. It was all just _wrong_. And you’d never called me _babe_. _You_ call me _darlin’_.”

Clint shook his head, still amazed. “I know why; you might not like to hear this, but girls before you – well, girls I wasn’t particularly attached to – I used to call them _babe_. It didn’t mean anything to me, you see. Loki must have picked up on that when he was digging around in my memories, and assumed I’d call you that too, but I never would.” He stood, taking her in his arms. “ _You’re_ my darlin’, my only love. I am so glad you realised, but damn, I was terrified he was gonna kill you right there in front of me!”

“Why did he try it?” Jen asked plaintively. “He _knows_ I’m not Guinevere.”

“He wanted to hurt me, I’m afraid, and he wanted to possess you. He said because you hadn’t completed your seven times yet, and I had, my soul would be bound to yours through eternity, but not the other way around. I think he planned to cast a spell to make you _his_ soul-mate, and leave my soul lonely and searching forever for you.”

“Bastard,” Jen clung to him even tighter, and then she turned her face up to his and gave him a small smile, water-droplets clinging to her eyelashes. “Well, let’s make sure he doesn’t have another chance. Three left to go, you think you’re up for it before we leave this apartment, Barton?”

“Jen,” he startled. “You can’t want to – not right now – Loki just damn nearly raped you!”

“Yes,” she agreed, “but I’m afraid that makes no difference to what my body needs right now, Hawk. Any time you’re not touching me, I feel really ill. I _need_ you.”

Talk about pressure. Fear for Jen was still clenching a knot tight in his chest. For a moment, Clint worried that he wouldn’t be able to perform. But then Jen ran her hands down his chest and whispered; “I need _you_ , Hawk. Only you. Right here, right now.” She laid her hands on his cock, and he stiffened in instant response.

Blue and silver eyes gleamed up at him as she stroked him, and he groaned in surrender and took her mouth in a fierce, lustful kiss. Jen smiled against his lips. “ _There’s_ my Hawk,” she mumbled.

“Only ever yours.” He lifted her off her feet, pinning her back against the shower wall, and she wrapped her legs around him.

“I always wanted to try shower sex.”

“Anything for you, darlin’.” She was sopping with arousal, making his entrance easy. He tried to go slow, to be gentle, but she was having none of it, locking her ankles at the small of his back and dragging him deep inside her.

“Don’t hold back,” Jen whispered in his ear. “I want you fast and hard. Make me forget.”

As always, he could do nothing but obey her command, slamming into her again and again as the hot water poured down on them both until she cried out his name and clenched around him. Ordinarily he’d have tried to hold on and bring her to another climax, but just this once he let himself go and emptied deep inside her, moaning against her throat as his body shuddered with blissful release.


	53. Chapter Forty-Six - Closure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint takes care of Jen after her ordeal.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> I’m With You: Avril Lavigne  
> It Can’t Rain All The Time: Jane Siberry  
> Higher Love: Steve Winwood
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters except for the Svendson family of OC's.

They dried off on Steve’s fresh white towels – bless the man – and crawled into bed together. Jen asked Clint to tell her about the velociraptors, and he gave her the highlights, including relating with glee Director Fury’s reaction when he thought Agent Hill might be dead or dying.

“He’s had it bad for her for a long, long time, I reckon,” Clint said, chuckling, “and she’s always hero-worshipped him. They make a good couple.”

“Matchmaker,” Jen smiled against his shoulder.

“Well, now I’ve found my beautiful soul-mate,” he kissed her lingeringly, “I want everyone else to be happy as well. We’ve just got to find Bruce a girl now.”

“He’s already got one,” Jen said, propping herself up on one elbow to look at him, “her name’s Betty, but he doesn’t trust himself, you see. He Hulks out when his heart-rate increases.”

“So?” Clint frowned.

“Don’t be daft, Hawk. Do you not find your heart speeding up when we’re together?”

“Oh,” he actually found himself flushing slightly. “Oh, I see. Wow. That – would be unnerving, wouldn’t it?”

“Possibly fatal.”

“Poor Bruce. I asked him to be best man at our wedding, you know.”

Jen stiffened, staring at him. “Er – were you planning to ask me to marry you, first? I think that’s _normally_ the order in which things are done.”

“Yeah?” He grinned at her. “I thought you pretty much accepted already, when you agreed to let me transform you, knowing we’d be bonded together permanently.”

“Hawk,” her eyes narrowed, “none of the words _wedding_ , _marriage_ , or _wife_ , were included in that conversation. Don’t think you’re off the hook.”

“Darn it.” His grin was pure wicked tease, and Jen pouted at him, only to let out a squeak as he grabbed her and rolled them, ending on top of her. “I love you,” he said, soft and husky, his eyes intent on hers, “and I always will. I don’t think I’ll ever be truly worthy of you, but I’m damned well gonna spend the rest of my life trying. Will you marry me, Genevieve Svendson?”

“Yes.” She’d thought she might tease him, make him wait for her answer, but the vulnerable look on his face made her change her mind. “Of course I’ll marry you, Clinton Francis Barton. My Hawk.” She saw his grimace as he realised she knew his full name, and laughed, kissing him. “Or any alias you care to use.”

His arousal leaped against her thigh, and she smiled slowly up at him. “Let’s worry about that later.”

“As you wish,” he murmured, taking her mouth in a deep, hungry kiss. His hands slid up to cup her breasts, and Jen sighed and gasped beneath him, all thoughts of Loki and his cold hands driven from her mind as Clint aroused her with sure, gentle touches, his hot mouth slipping down her neck, his tongue tracing around her nipple until she shivered and grabbed his hair, directing him firmly onto his target. He laughed softly, nibbling and sucking, pulling one of her thighs up to his side and sliding his hand around to begin caressing her with his thumb, circling her clit, feeling slick wetness coat his fingers. She was so deliciously responsive, it made him crazy with wanting her.

“Gonna take it slow, this time, darlin’,” he whispered against her breast, kissing back up towards her mouth. “I want to watch you come apart.”

Jen could only moan his name, delirious with pleasure as he eased slowly into her, stretching her in the most delicious way. His hand behind her knee lifted her leg at just the right angle for him to put exquisite pressure on her most sensitive spots.

“There?” Clint queried huskily, watching Jen’s face as her eyelids fluttered and her mouth went slack. “That what you like, darlin’?” He flexed his hips slowly, watching her reactions. She bit her lower lip, sinking her teeth in, and he swooped down and claimed her mouth with his own, kissing her hard and deep, thrusting his tongue into her mouth in a pale parody of what he was doing to her with his cock. She moaned deep in her throat and scored his shoulders with her nails.

“Aaah,” Clint shuddered, thrusting harder as the tiny pain rippled through him. “Oh, Jen, yeah – what you do to me, darlin’…”

“Hawk,” she whispered, her hips rolling against him in a rhythm that drove him completely wild. “Don’t stop – oh please don’t stop…” her head tossed against the pillows as he drove her slowly, inexorably towards orgasm. He watched her, drinking her in, storing up in his memory every sound she made, the way her mouth looked as she climaxed, the glazed look in her beautiful blue-and-silver eyes as she came slowly back down afterwards.

“You. Are. So. Fucking. Beautiful.” He punctuated his words with kisses, and she smiled drunkenly up at him, dizzy with ecstasy.

“And you are so fucking good at fucking.” That made him laugh, and she shuddered as he moved inside her. “Hawk!”

“Yeah, darlin’?” He kissed her again, then saw the redness beginning to form on her skin and realised he was giving her stubble rash. He lifted a hand to rub at his chin, frowning. “Damn, I need to shave.” His beard was getting quite thick. He must look disreputable as hell.

“Later, Hawk, right now you need to fuck me, don’t get distracted!” She ran her hands down to his ass and dug her nails in, loving the way he flinched and then moaned. He had the most amazing ass, serious buns of steel. In fact she didn’t think there was an ounce of excess flesh anywhere on his body. His lower body was toned and lean, only his shoulders and biceps really heavy with muscle. She traced a finger delicately down the veins standing out on one huge arm, and then leaned up to bite at it.

“Jen,” Clint said warningly.

“What? You’ll fuck me harder if I bite you?” she teased, having felt his hips jerk involuntarily. “Go ahead. You know I like that.”

He did know she liked that. He’d been frightened of hurting her with his strength at first, but she’d never so much as winced no matter what he did, and the worst marks he’d left on her skin were fast-fading fingerprint bruises on her hips. He wanted, suddenly, to remedy that. To put a mark on her, however fast it might fade, to brand her _his_.

“Can I give you a hickey?” he murmured it against her soft throat, licking delicately at the spot he’d chosen.

“Only if it comes with – oh, _please_ do that again – an orgasm,” she gasped out as he began to swivel his hips, _screwing_ her slowly to the bed.

“Reckon I can manage that,” he moved a little faster, shifting up off her and bringing one hand to her breast, pinching and rolling her nipple in his fingertips. Jen shuddered and moaned, and as he felt those fluttering spasms begin inside her again, he lowered his head and suckled hard on her neck. He hadn’t expected her to retaliate with a hard rip of her fingernails down his spine, but she did. The pain bowed his back with pleasure, and he found himself coming again with a deep groan and a feeling of surprise; it had been less than half an hour between orgasms and he hadn’t managed that since his early twenties.

They lay pressed together, breathing hard. Clint moved off Jen, not wanting to crush her, and she wriggled closer and laid her head on his chest. After a couple of minutes though, she got up and went to the bathroom to clean up. He propped himself up on one elbow to watch her move around until she returned and lay down beside him again.

“Are you all right?” he asked softly, and Jen knew he was referring to Loki.

“You saw; you know he hardly got to touch me,” she replied.

“That’s evading the question.”

She pressed her face into his shoulder for a moment and sighed. “All right, I’m – I guess I’m a bit peeved that I didn’t figure him out before he had me down on the bed naked.”

Clint shook his head, letting out a slight bark of laughter. “Jen, considering the condition you were in, I’m amazed you figured him out at all! It took you under two minutes to have a gun to his head. I’m not sure even Tasha could have guessed quicker that it wasn’t really me, and she’s known me for over ten years.”

“Really?” Jen looked up at him doubtfully, and then took a deep breath. “So – what did he do to _you_? Were you there all the time and I couldn’t see you? And – could you see it was _him_ , or did he look like you to your eyes?”

“I was there. He came in just after I finished my shower and he kind of froze me, and silenced my voice with his magic. I was behind some sort of magic one-way mirror. I could see you. And yes, I could see that it was Loki, though he showed me in the mirror that he was wearing my face.”

“That must have been awful for you,” Jen said compassionately, and he hugged her close, burying his face in her hair.

“Of all the ghastly things Loki forced me to do when he owned my mind,” Clint mumbled, his voice muffled, “the things I did, the people I killed – nothing even comes close to how I felt when I thought I was going to have to watch you willingly have sex with him. Even though you thought it was me.”

“I’m _so_ glad I shot him,” Jen said passionately, making him grin. “I only wish I hadn’t had such a case of the doubts and shot him in the shoulder instead of through the head.”

“You did that on purpose? I thought you missed because he moved so fast.”

“I hit what I aim at, Hawk! Especially at a range of about four feet!” She sounded offended.

“Sorry for doubting you,” he lifted his head and looked to find her frowning at him. “I am glad that you didn’t want to put a bullet through this pretty face, though,” he gestured to himself, and Jen couldn’t help but smile.

“I figured if it really was you and you were just acting really weird, you’d get over being shot in the shoulder,” she said. “But the instant he grabbed for the gun, I knew it wasn’t you. You’d have backed off, given me whatever space I needed to be confident in you. Loki was arrogant.”

“It seems to be a flaw of his,” Clint stroked her hair back from her face gently, saw her eyelids flutter. “Are you tired, darlin’?”

“It’s been a big day,” she mumbled, nestling closer to him.

“I know. Get some sleep. I won’t leave you, I promise,” he said as she looked suddenly fearful. “I’ll be right here.”


	54. Chapter Forty-Seven - Visitors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are some unexpected new arrivals at the Tower.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Rebel Beat: Goo Goo Dolls  
> Love Story: Taylor Swift  
> Walk This World: Heather Nova
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Marvel, except for my family of OC's, the Svendsons.

Much to his surprise, Clint woke a few hours later. He hadn’t expected to fall asleep, but he supposed the dinosaur hunt, plus the stress of Loki’s attack afterwards, plus a couple of rounds of hot monkey sex with Jen, probably added up to needing a rest. Jen was asleep beside him, face down, arms tucked under the pillow, all the covers kicked off, leaving her beautiful body exposed to his eyes. He gazed lustfully for a few minutes, looking his fill. It was dark still, but there was plenty of ambient glow coming in through the open blinds, and he could see her clearly.

Clint ran a gentle hand down Jen’s back, caressing the curve of her spine, stroking her buttocks lightly. She let out a small sigh and shifted, turning her head sideways to face him, though her eyes remained closed and her slow breathing told him she still slept. Her legs were relaxed and slightly parted; he absolutely couldn’t resist slipping his hand between them and caressing gently.

Jen moaned softly in her sleep and pressed against his hand, her legs falling further apart, moisture welling against his fingers. Clint smiled.

Slowly, Clint turned Jen onto her back, parting her thighs and sliding down the bed to lie between them. He flicked his tongue at her lightly – _damn, but she tasted good_ – and then gently began to lave her clit with his tongue. She was on the verge of a shuddering orgasm when she woke up, realised what he was doing, said his name and then lost it completely.

“What the hell kind of sneaky ninja assassin trick was _that_?” Jen gasped out a minute later, getting her breath back. Clint chuckled to himself, sitting back on his heels and rolling Jen back over onto her stomach while she still trembled, unable to resist what he was doing to her.

“On your knees, darlin’.”

“Bossy,” she grumbled, and squealed when he slapped her ass, not hard enough to leave a mark but sharp enough to smart a little.

“I let you boss me round all the time, you mouthy little madam. But right now _I’m_ in charge. Now get on your knees.”

Unbearably turned on, Jen obeyed, and was rewarded by a calloused thumb slipping deep inside her. She moaned, shuddering, her back bowing, as his fingers teased around her sensitised, swollen clit. Clint’s mouth traced hot up her spine.

“You want something, darlin’?”

“I want you inside me,” Jen begged, barely coherent as his fingers stroked faster. “Please, Hawk…”

“I really like it when you beg, darlin’,” he muttered huskily, removing his hand and using it to guide his cock to her. “Did I tell you that yet?”

“No, oh, holy fuuuuuck…” she groaned it out as he slid deep inside her with one long, smooth, slow thrust. And then he was pulling her up to him, guiding her to put her hands on the headboard, his hands on her breasts as his mouth ravaged her neck, all the while keeping up a rhythm of slow deep thrusts inside her.

“Yes. Oh god. More. Please. Harder. Hawk!” The words fell from Jen’s lips, punctuated by Clint’s slow, but hard thrusting. “Please – faster – I need…”

“I know what you need, darlin’,” he gritted out, and ran a hand down her belly to scissor two fingers over her swollen clit, speeding his pace as he did so. Jen thrust back against him frantically, begging incoherently, and he found the mark he’d left on her neck before and fastened his lips over it again. “This is what you need, isn’t it? You want me to fuck you hard and fast and dirty?” he whispered it in her ear as he accelerated again, holding her hips steady as he pistoned against her, and Jen nodded against his stubbled cheek.

“Yes, oh yes, oh _Hawk_!” she ended on a scream, clenching hard around him, and Clint smiled tightly and kept pumping, remorseless and steady, refusing to let her come down. She felt incredible, slick and tight, taking him right to the hilt, his groin slapping against her ass as he slammed home again and again, feeling her muscles clench and spasm around his cock. Realising he was close as he let out a guttural sound against her neck, Jen deliberately ground herself back against him, and was rewarded with his fierce groan and an explosion of heat inside her that set her off again too.

“You’re mine, now,” Clint said it a few minutes later, as they lay spooned together, Jen’s back against his chest, her head tucked under his chin. “Always.”

“And _you_ are _mine_ ,” she stroked his hands and forearms with her fingertips lightly.

“I think I was yours from the moment you led me into the air ducts during the battle,” he smiled wryly to himself, pressing gentle kisses to the back of her neck.

Jen smiled. “Tasha’s told me about you and air ducts. You better watch out, though, Hawk, I might take over your domain. I’m smaller than you and there are places I can get into that you’d never fit.”

“I’ll share my air ducts with you any time,” he growled softly, licking at the mark he’d made on her neck, wondering if he had the energy right now to have her again. They were interrupted, though, by JARVIS making one of his discreet chiming noises.

“What is it, JARVIS?” Jen asked as Clint flopped down onto his back with a curse muttered under his breath.

“Miss Svendson – some visitors have arrived for you. Mr Jacques is with them now.” Jen could have sworn JARVIS actually sounded uncomfortable. “It’s your parents.”

Jen was out of the bed in a second, dragging Clint’s T-shirt on. “Is the glass in our apartment fixed? I need clothes – I can’t meet them like this…”

Clint groaned inwardly, seeing the stubble rash on her chin and the black hickey on her neck. “Makeup too, probably,” he gestured to catch her attention.

“No time. Believe me, my dad will be up here in under five minutes. _Move_ , Hawk!”

“The window has indeed been fixed and the apartment cleaned, Miss Svendson,” JARVIS said as Clint sighed and dragged his own clothes on. He badly needed to shave and shower, but he’d have to settle for some deodorant and brushing his teeth. He followed Jen as she hurried out.

Jen was quite correct: there was a loud knocking on Clint’s apartment door less than five minutes later. Jen’s father was obviously a force to be reckoned with, Clint thought; but then having met Jacques that was no surprise. Her mother was the unknown in the equation. As Jen was in the bathroom hastily slapping concealer on her neck, he opened the door himself.

Mr Svendson was a broader, older, more intimidating version of Jacques, was Clint’s first impression, as the man almost charged through the door, shoving him aside, bellowing Jen’s name. Jacques followed, and then a petite woman, her bobbed hair fairer than Jen’s, but with the same blue eyes – the same before Jen’s had changed, anyway – was standing before him, looking him up and down with an appreciative smile.

“Mrs Svendson? It’s nice to meet you,” he held out a hand, wishing he didn’t look quite so scruffy and unshaven. _Not_ a good first impression to make on Jen’s parents.

“Please call me Genviève,” she said in a musical, distinctly French accent. “And you must be Clint.” She pronounced it Cleent.

“Yes, ma’am. Genviève,” he corrected when she gave him a disapproving pout. Wow, she was still a very beautiful woman, even though she had to be fifty or more, since Jen was twenty-five and Jacques four years older. He’d be a helluva lucky man if Jen aged like that! Genviève put her hand in his in such a way that he knew he was meant to kiss it – he’d spent plenty of time in France on missions – and he did so gallantly enough that she twinkled her eyes and smiled at him.

Jen came out of the bathroom, spotted her mother and Clint charming each other, and turned to her father. “Daddy,” was all she had time to get out before he scooped her up and hugged her so hard she thought her ribs might crack. “Dad, stop it! Gaagh! I can’t breathe!”

He set her down, looked her over thoroughly, clearly didn’t miss the marks she’d done a bad job of trying to hide, and turned on Clint with a thunderous frown. Which was when Jacques intervened, speaking in rapid French, and earning Clint’s eternal gratitude. “Dad, he’s an alright bloke. Really. And I already gave him a bit of a beating, he took it well. He’s not the one who hurt Jen.”

“He’s the one put that mark on her neck, I’m willing to bet,” Svendson growled back in the same language.

“I’m afraid so,” Clint said in perfect French, “though I did ask permission first.”

“Serves you right for being rude, Dad,” Jen laughed at the expression on her father’s face. “Let me introduce you properly. Dad, this is Clint Barton. Clint, my father, Frederik Svendson.”

“Rik,” Svendson rumbled, shaking Clint’s hand. He didn’t bother with a crusher grip, for which Clint actually respected him more. This man saw no need to try to assert his dominance. “So where’s this bastard who tried to trick you into sleeping with him? That one’s got a pressing appointment with my fists.”

“Not just _your_ fists,” Jacques said, pulling Jen into a hug himself. “So where is he, Barton?”

Much though he would have loved to watch Jen’s father and brother kick the absolute crap out of Loki, Clint had to shake his head regretfully. “I don’t know, and I doubt they’ll tell me. I promised to kill him if I ever saw him near Jen again, and since he’s an alien prince it could potentially cause an interstellar diplomatic incident.”

“Thought you were an assassin? You make a habit of letting your targets know you’re coming for them?” Rik Svendson shook his head disapprovingly.

“That’s enough, boys,” Genviève broke in. “You catch more flies with honey than vinegar. That nice Mr Stark already told me where Loki is.”

“You think Tony’s _nice_?” Jen said, surprised.

“Why yes, dear. He told me everything I wanted to know.” Genviève fluttered her eyelashes, and Jen sighed. Her mother could charm just about anything she wanted out of a man with those long lashes and her sideways smile, and the French accent that just seemed to make men go weak at the knees. Tony wouldn’t have known what hit him.

Indeed, at that very moment there was a tap on the still-open apartment door and Tony himself came in, smiling goofily at Genviève. “Are you ready, Genviève? I can escort you down to Loki’s cell now, if you like.”

“He’s in the building?” Clint asked, surprised.

“Well, if you can call sub-basement 16 _in the building_ ,” Tony shrugged. “There’s a Hulk holding cell down there. Tasha and Steve are guarding Loki in it.”

Clint hadn’t known sub-basements went down that far. There certainly weren’t any buttons in the elevators numbered for basements except the parking garage and the shooting range. He chastised himself for the thought as Tony instructed JARVIS to take them down, though. Of course Stark wasn’t exactly going to advertise secret underground facilities! Probably only JARVIS could take them down that far.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Casting for this chapter: Rik – Clive Owen, Genviève – Vanessa Paradis**
> 
> **(and yes, Jen is named Genevieve after her mother – it’s just a slightly Anglicised version of the same name, pronounced Zhahn-vee-ehv, with the emphasis on the first syllable).**


	55. Chapter Forty-Eight - Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Jen confront Loki, and everyone gets a massive surprise.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> One Of Us: Joan Osborne  
> Battlefield: Jordin Sparks  
> Apologise: OneRepublic
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters, except for Jen, Jacques and their parents.

“You gonna behave yourself, Barton?” Tony murmured to Clint as the elevator descended.

“That kinda depends on Loki,” Clint responded quietly, his eyes on Jen as she embraced her mother. “And if Jacques or Jen’s dad want to get a few licks in, well, I’d say they’re more than justified.”

Tony grimaced. “I can’t argue with you on that. But Loki’s defenceless: Thor put that muzzle thing back on him so he can’t speak or use his magic, and Thor’s gone to Asgard to consult with their mother. Apparently as it’s a crime against a female, judgement and punishment falls under Queen Frigga’s purview.” He shrugged at Clint’s curious expression. “Just repeating what Thor told me after we locked Loki up.”

When they got down to sub-basement 16 – Clint was now, of course, wondering what was in the other sub-basements and thinking about how he was going to find out, maybe he could get Genviève to work on Tony, her charm appeared to be a lethal weapon – Tony turned to him before opening the only door out of the small lobby.

“Right, hand them over. Your weapons,” he clarified when Clint raised an eyebrow at him. “All of them.”

Clint glared at Tony. “I’m not letting Jen in there unprotected…”

“She won’t be. Natasha and Steve are guarding Loki, and they’re both armed. But I can’t let you in there with the weapons I know you’ve got on you somewhere, not after you threatened Loki.”

Clint _growled_. Jen put a hand on his arm. “It’s all right, Hawk,” she said softly. “Jacques is armed, too, though he’s promised not to shoot Loki unless he tries anything.”

Jacques opened his jacket at Jen’s nod to show Clint the pistol holstered under his arm. Eventually Clint gave a short, choppy nod and started pulling his own weapons and putting them on a shelf that slid out from the wall at a gesture of Tony’s.

Everyone’s eyes were quite wide by the time Clint had finished. Three guns, four knives, six drug-tipped darts from his belt buckle and a wire garrotte lay on the shelf.

“That it?” Tony asked, and at Clint’s nod, distrustfully said “Scan him, JARVIS.”

“There are carbon fibre blades built into the toes and heels of Mr Barton’s boots, Sir,” JARVIS replied.

“I’m not going in there barefoot, Tony!” Clint glared. “I’ll promise not to use them, all right?”

Tony sighed, realising he wasn’t going to get any better, and accepted Clint’s word for it. He leant forward to the door and a light flashed, scanning his retina, before the door clicked open.

They entered the holding cell room – after passing through several doors Tony used varying methods to open – to find Steve and Natasha guarding Loki in a massive glass cell. Steve was seated comfortably, watching the cell, while Natasha paced, fingering her weapons. Loki was sitting on the floor of the cell, but he looked up as they came in. None of them expected his reaction.

Loki shot to his feet, and then just as fast was cowering back in the far corner of the cell, his eyes on Rik Svendson, quite clearly screaming behind his mask, though no sound came out. The expression on his face was pure horror.

“Okaaaay…” Rik said slowly, pacing towards the cell, “I’d get why he looks like he’s about to shit his shorts _if_ he had any idea who I was…”

Loki looked, almost unwillingly it seemed, at the small woman following Rik, at Genviève. And then he went to his knees, his eyes closing, and _tears_ slid slowly down his face as he bowed forward until his brow hit the ground. He stayed there, crumpled, trembling, as they all stared at him and then at each other.

“So – what the _fuck_ just happened?” it was Tony who broke the silence.

A horrible feeling was creeping slowly up on Clint. “Can he hear us?” he asked Tony.

“Yeah,” Natasha responded, still staring at Loki in bewildered shock.

Clint walked up to the cell, putting his hand on the glass. “You recognise them, don’t you, Loki?” he asked quietly. When he’d walked into the room, he’d been fully intent on snatching Jacques’ gun (trying to steal one of Natasha’s might well have been suicidal, even for him) and blowing a hole in Loki’s head. But Loki’s terrified, shattered expression – well, even Clint had second thoughts about killing a man with that look on his face.

“I’ve never laid eyes on him before,” Rik said with certainty, “have you, Genny?” Genviève shook her head, moving to stand close to her husband, her brow furrowed with consternation.

“Not in _this_ lifetime, maybe,” Clint said. Loki was still trembling and weeping silently, unable to look at anyone. “Loki! You know who they are, don’t you?”

Loki jerked, and slowly brought his eyes up to look at Clint. He nodded once.

“Oh, no,” Jen figured it out too. “My _parents_? You’re _kidding_ me!”

“Will _someone_ tell me what’s going on?!!” Tony shouted, waving his arms about.

“Settle down, Tony,” Natasha casually grabbed one of his wrists and bent it behind his back until he stopped flailing about. “Clint’s just about to fill us in. _Aren’t_ you, Clint?” her tone was dangerous.

“I know Thor told Jane, but did he mention to any of you that Loki thought Jen was a dead ringer for a woman he knew once, a very long time ago – a woman who became known in our legends as Queen Guinevere?” Clint began, trying to break it gently. “The Asgardians believe in reincarnation, too, and though Loki told me that he knew Jen wasn’t actually Guinevere reborn – well, I think her _mother_ might be. Which makes her _father_ King Arthur.”

Rik Svendson let out a bark of laughter. Which died away quickly as he realised that Clint, Tony, Steve, Natasha and Jen were all looking at him with not the slightest hint of amusement on their faces, but something like awe. Jacques looked completely flabbergasted. Loki was nodding, tears pouring from his eyes.

And Genviève – picked it up and ran with it.

“What was Guinevere to you?” she walked up beside Clint at the glass cage and glared at Loki, her expression flinty. He gazed at her, anguish clear on his face even though he couldn’t speak.

“The woman he loved, but couldn’t have,” Clint answered, as Loki bowed his head, more tears streaming from his eyes. “She married Arthur instead, and their souls were linked forever, such that whenever they were reborn, they’d always end up together, somehow. I don’t think Loki ever stopped loving Guinevere, though.”

“No, he never did,” a new voice chimed in, and they all spun around to see a tall, golden-haired woman entering the room with Thor beside her. “My son never did stop loving her, even though he knew she would never care for him that way. He swore his life to her service, promised to uphold her honour to his last breath – and now he has tried to dishonour her _daughter_.”

“Queen Frigga of Asgard,” Thor said, rather unnecessarily, for such was the woman’s presence that they all found themselves unconsciously bowing to her. Except Rik Svendson, which was the last thing that convinced Clint that the man really _was_ a legendary king reborn. _He_ stood straight and looked the goddess-queen in the eyes.

“I don’t know what you intend for him, but I’ll not stand down from demanding justice for my daughter,” Rik said firmly.

“You shall have it.” Frigga glided forward until she stood directly before Rik, and smiled at him. “It is good to see you again, my friend, though I know you do not remember me. What is your name in this time?”

“Frederik Svendson. Rik,” he tipped his head slightly to her with respect, and she smiled.

“And your wife?”

“Genviève,” he said, and Frigga let out a small laugh.

“A coincidence surely; not far from Ginevra at all! My son Thor told me of your son and daughter Jacques and Genevieve,” she paused for a moment by Jen, took her chin in one hand, and surveyed her. “Yes, your Hawk chose well,” she murmured, after a long look into Jen’s eyes. “My blessing on you, daughter of Ginevra.” She let go of her and turned to Clint. He was tempted to back away – she was even more intimidating, somehow, than Thor and Loki at their most terrifyingly otherworldly – but she put a cool hand against his face.

“Do not fear,” Frigga said gently, and Clint had the distinct feeling that he was the only one who could hear her. “You have paid for your sins already in blood and suffering. Your Genevieve is your match and your reward; you need only look at her parents for your guarantee that you will always find her again, no matter what separates you.”

Clint nodded wordlessly, finding tears welling in his own eyes. Frigga turned from him as though to speak to Genviève, but paused, looking at Natasha.

“I cannot give you back what has been taken from you, little sister,” Frigga reached out to Natasha, laying a gentle hand on her stomach. “But one day soon, you will understand why it is for the best.” She slanted a look at Steve and nodded at him. “Tell him what it is that you fear. For the two of you, a problem shared is no problem at all.”

Finally, Frigga came to Genviève, and gave her a sisterly smile. “It is truly good to see you again, though I know you do not remember me either.”

Genviève shook her head, though she wore a puzzled frown. “It’s odd – I almost feel as though I _do_. So who were _you_ in the legends?”

“The Lady of the Lake, of course,” Frigga looked amused. “And Nimüe.”

“Hey, does this mean Dad gets Excalibur?” Jacques suddenly interjected.

“Excalibur was only an ordinary sword,” Thor rumbled, “it was the man who bore it that made it more than mere steel.”

“ _Bummer_ ,” Jacques said, and somehow the tension was broken, and they were all smiling. Clint looked back at Loki then, still weeping soundlessly.

“What will be done with him, Majesty?” he asked Frigga.

“He has created his own punishment, this time,” Frigga turned to look at her adoptive son, shaking her head sadly. She waved a hand and the cage door slid open – causing Tony to give a strangled squawk – and then she walked in and knelt down beside Loki, removing the mask from his face. “My son, my son,” she said softly, “what have you done?”

“I’m so sorry,” Loki sobbed, “Mother, I’m so sorry – I thought – I thought that she might come to love me – forgive me, Ginevra, forgive me, I did not know!” he threw himself at Genviève’s feet, where she stood in the doorway of the cage. “I swear I did not know she was your daughter!”

A hefty boot connected with ribs as Rik Svendson took a swing, and Loki was flung across the cage, crashing into the far side with a pained grunt. “That’s no fucking excuse, you pathetic worm!” Rik thundered. “What, so it wouldn’t have mattered if she was someone _else’s_ daughter?”

No one moved to stop Rik going after Loki again – Clint was feeling a great deal of vindictive satisfaction, and wishing he’d given Rik his blade-equipped boots – so the big Australian followed up his first kick with another one, this one connecting hard with Loki’s jaw, cracking his head back against the glass. “ _Answer_ me, damn you!”

“Yes,” Loki choked out after a moment, holding up his hand in a plea for Rik to let him speak. “Yes, it _would_ have mattered no matter who she was. I see that now. But – but because she _is_ Ginevra’s daughter, I am forsworn…”

“Ah, yes, you understand,” Frigga murmured, shaking her head sadly.

“I promised – I took oath on my _life_ to serve Ginevra all my days. I vowed I would protect her always, her and _all her descendants_. And now I have broken my vow, my life is forfeit. I am in your hands, Ginevra, you need only tell me how you wish for me to die!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Incidentally, the song Battlefield belongs in this story in SO MANY WAYS. But the funniest one is that the first time I heard it, I’d just watched The Avengers for the first time, and in the line where she sings “you better go get your armour”, I heard it as “you better go get shawarma” because it was kind of fuzzy, on the radio.**
> 
> **Cue hysterical snorts of laughter when that came back to me while writing this chapter.**
> 
> **And then near-tears – I didn’t quite plan on Loki having a breakdown when I started this bit. But then I thought, what the hell, I’m gonna run with it (and yes. He is for real. At least in my headcanon for this story).**
> 
> **And bizarrely, I’d already written this and cast Clive Owen as Jen’s father when I found out that Clive Owen actually played Arthur in a movie adaptation I hadn’t seen. Spooooky.**


	56. Chapter Forty-Nine - The Queen's Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen is faced with an impossible decision.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> What I’ve Done: Linkin Park  
> Suffer Me: Matchbox Twenty  
> Love Story: Taylor Swift
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel, except for Jen, Jacques, Rik and Genvieve.

“You need only tell me how you wish for me to die!”

For several long moments after Loki’s anguished cry to Genviève, no one moved or spoke. And then Queen Frigga sighed gently, put her hand on Rik’s arm and urged him from the holding cell, closing the door behind her with a wave of her hand.

“The mask,” Clint gestured at Loki and at the mask, still in Frigga’s hand.

“It is not necessary, Hawk. Loki is forsworn and he accepts it. He will not seek to evade his punishment. He awaits only Genviève’s decision. Guards and locks are no longer required.”

“I can’t – I can’t tell him how to kill himself!” Genviève blurted, looking distressed. “He tried to seduce Jen, yes, but – that’s not punishable by _death_ , anywhere! Is it?”

Even Clint and Rik, with most cause to want Loki dead, had to reluctantly shake their heads. But Frigga said;

“Genviève, he is _forsworn_. His life is forfeit. If you do not tell him how it must be ended, then he will end it himself in the most painful way he can conceive.”

“ _Mon Dieu_ ,” Genviève clutched at her head, and Rik went to his wife, gathering her in his arms, holding her against him and murmuring soft words of reassurance in French.

“Not now,” Rik said sharply when Jacques started to speak. “It can wait a while. Can’t it?” he looked at Frigga.

“Three days, at the most,” Frigga cast a regretful glance at her adopted son, still huddled on the floor of his cage, though his eyes were fixed on Genviève. Tears still coursed down his cheeks. Clint found himself, for the first time, feeling pity for Loki, because he really didn’t think Loki’s tears were for himself, but for the broken vow he had made, to the woman he had obviously loved enough to offer his life to protect her and her children by another man.

Loki met Clint’s eyes, and the genuine grief and remorse Clint saw there made Clint walk back to the cell, even as the others all left the room. Natasha waited at the door for him, holding it open, but obviously making sure no one came back in to interrupt.

“I don’t get it,” Clint said, “you swore to protect Guinevere’s descendants, and what you intended wouldn’t have actually hurt _Jen_ in the end, would it?”

Loki gave a small, bitter smile. “While I could have used magic to make her into my soul-mate, in my deepest heart I knew that she _would_ have been happier with you, Barton. That _you_ are her true match. So yes, it would have hurt her. It’s not your decision anyway. Ginevra will decide my fate, and she will listen to her husband. Arturus would have killed me many times over for lusting after his woman if he had the opportunity, and I expect no less of him now for interfering with his daughter’s happiness.”

“You’re forgetting that he’s _not_ King Arthur,” Clint said. “Rik Svendson might be the same soul reborn, but he’s his own man.”

“He’s a soldier, as Arturus was.” Loki shrugged. “It’s there in his eyes. And I met his son, do not forget; I know what manner of man he is. He will make the call, and Ginevra will listen to him.”

“And make her own decisions. Don’t write yourself off quite yet, Loki. There’s worse fates than dying.” Clint nodded to the Asgardian and walked away. Natasha waited at the door, though the others were gone.

“You’re not staying to guard him?”

“I believed Queen Frigga when she said it wasn’t necessary. JARVIS would let us know if he tried to escape. Tony and JARVIS figured out how he fooled JARVIS’s sensors before and he won’t be able to do it again.” Natasha linked her arm comfortably with his as they walked back down the corridor. “You really don’t want Loki dead?”

Clint sighed. “You know very well that I have more reason to hate him than anyone, but he’s already been punished for what he did to me, and for the Chitauri and the rest of it. What he tried with Jen was despicable, yeah, but he didn’t manage it and the punishment seems out of order to the magnitude of the crime. I might well have killed him in the heat of the moment, but now…”

“We _are_ the Avengers,” Natasha murmured, “we’re not the comic book characters of the _Justice_ League.”

“No, I’m a much better shot than that Green Arrow dude,” Clint quipped, making her smile.

“Where’s Jen, JARVIS?” Clint asked as they got into a waiting elevator.

“The Svendson family is gathered in Mr Jacques’ suite, sir,” JARVIS responded after a moment. “I believe they are having a family reunion.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna interrupt that. And looks like you need to go talk to Steve,” Clint glanced down at Natasha’s hand, which had been placed flat across her stomach ever since Frigga spoke to her. “Is this about what the Red Room did to you?” Natasha had told him long ago that the Red Room sterilised her by taking her ovaries out surgically when she was in her teens, once she was physically mature. They didn’t want their operative _inconvenienced_ by periods or fluctuating hormones, never mind potential pregnancies.

Natasha just closed her eyes, leaning back against the wall of the lift.

“I see. You didn’t tell Steve yet?” Clint left it alone when she didn’t respond to his question. She’d let him know if she needed his help. “I’m going to the roof for a bit, if anyone’s looking for me,” he said, to JARVIS as much as Natasha. “I want some space to think.”

The corner of Natasha’s mouth twitched, but she said nothing, just got off at her floor.

Clint sat on the roof for a while, watching the city come slowly to life in the early morning. He’d been up there a couple of hours when the smell of hot coffee made his nose twitch, and he turned to see Bruce coming out through the rooftop door with a thermal cup in his hand.

“Hey, thanks, wingman,” he greeted the scientist, accepting the offered cup. “How’s it going?”

“Good. Tony’s just filled me in on the legends among us. With an extraordinary amount of hyperbole and gesturing, even for Tony. I think he was disappointed that Excalibur didn’t have any magical powers and is dreaming up some sort of high-tech version to give to Jen’s dad.”

“Please tell me you discouraged him?” Clint sighed. “God save us from an enthused Tony!”

“Well, _I_ did. But I think Jacques rather fancies the idea. He sent Tony a text a little while ago saying that his father wasn’t fussed but as his heir, he’d be happy to accept on his behalf.”

Clint scoffed, sipping the coffee. “Does Jacques even know how to use a sword?”

“I think he’s rather hoping to persuade you to teach him,” Bruce said, grinning. “Oh, come on,” when Clint frowned, “we all helped move Jen’s stuff into your apartment, when you were sick. It was kind of hard to miss the rather well-used collection of swords and knives mounted on the wall. I think I know you well enough to know that you wouldn’t have them handy like that unless you knew exactly what to do with them.”

Clint shrugged, sipping his coffee again. It was excellent coffee. He wondered who’d made it. “I grew up in a circus. Being a one-trick pony was kind of a dumb plan. I learned all the tricks I could.”

“Like swords and knives as well as a bow,” Bruce prompted.

“And horse-riding, gymnastics, trapeze, high-wire, fire-eating…”Clint grinned sideways at Bruce. “Hey, I get bored easily.”

“I think we all know _that_ isn’t true. Natasha told me you once lay on a rooftop in Prague for two days in the middle of winter waiting for her to get a mark into position so you could shoot him.” When Clint didn’t respond, Bruce said quietly, “I’ve been thinking about what you said about your lack of education. I don’t think you lacked education at all. I think you just had a very unconventional one.”

Clint shrugged. “What’s this about, Bruce?” He could tell the scientist was working up to something.

“We didn’t do a final test to determine your IQ score, and to measure your physical changes after the transformation. Is now a good time?”

“I s’pose.” Clint drained the last of the coffee and stood. “You need to run Jen’s tests again as well. She’s completed her transformation too.”

Bruce’s eyebrows shot up. “What…” he mentally ran back through the last couple of days, and the amount of time Jen and Clint had been able to spend together since Thor and Loki arrived. “You stud, Barton!”

Bruce was obviously trying to tease him, so Clint just smirked. “Damn right, Banner. Loki got his one chance to fuck things up for me; I wasn’t about to let him have another. Besides, you can’t tell me if you had a beautiful woman who drove you crazy in bed that you couldn’t manage to do her seven times in a couple of days?”

Bruce was the one who blushed, and then put a hand to his chest. “Stop it, Barton. Not a good idea.”

“I don’t see you turning green round the edges. Reckon you’ve got more control than you think you do, Bruce, and besides I reckon the big guy wouldn’t mind a bit of vicarious lovin’.”

“Shut up and let’s go do that IQ test! Though I don’t think yours can be that high if you’re trying to tease the Other Guy out.”

“Really? Because the other person I know who tries is Stark.”

“You have a point there,” Bruce couldn’t help but acknowledge, “but he’s a thrill-seeking egomaniac as well as a genius.”

Clint grinned and led the way back inside.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **“Mon Dieu”- My God**
> 
> **And stay tuned – the last SteveTasha Interlude is coming up shortly…**


	57. Chapter 49a - SteveTasha Interlude 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha tells Steve a painful truth, and learns something surprising in return.
> 
> All characters belong to Marvel, except the Svendson family of OC's.

“So,” Steve said as Natasha walked back into her apartment, “what is it that you need to tell me?”

He was sitting on her couch, looking blond and beautiful and altogether just too good for her, for her terrorised psyche, her damaged body, her nightmare past, her ruined just fucking everything. She opened her mouth to tell him to get out now, while he still could, before he got trapped and destroyed in the Black Widow’s web like a thousand men before him. But she couldn’t make the words come out.

“Tasha,” Steve didn’t recognise the look on her face, but he knew he didn’t like it. He rose swiftly and crossed the room, putting his arms around her gently, cautiously. “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I can’t have children,” she blurted it out in a rush. Best to just get it over with. Give him a good reason to go. Push him away now, before he burrowed any deeper into her shattered heart. “The Red Room removed my ovaries. No eggs means no kids.”

“Oh?” he raised his eyebrows, and then, unaccountably, he _smiled_. “Well – good.”

“Whaaat?”

“Well, not so good, I mean, I’m sure every woman wants to be a mother,” he backtracked, “and you would make an awesome mom…”

“I’d make a fucking terrible mom!”

“I don’t know about that.” Gently, he pulled her to sit down alongside him on the couch. “I had actually just started to worry about that. After all, we’ve made love a few times now, and I never even thought about protection. I can’t catch anything, and I know the Black Widow serum means you can’t either, but pregnancy isn’t something I’d really thought about…”

“Well, you don’t have to worry,” Natasha said flatly. “You can fuck me bareback as much as you want.”

Steve had to stop for a few moments and realign the train of thought she’d just totally derailed with that comment. It probably wasn’t appropriate right now, but Natasha’s words – well, a man would have to be dead not to want to respond to _that_ invitation.

“I – may take you up on that, once we’ve finished this slightly more serious conversation,” he tried to make it come out deadpan, but damn it, he was just no good at that expressionless thing. It coaxed a tiny smile from Natasha, though. “But Tasha, I don’t think you understand. I’m glad I don’t have to worry about getting you pregnant, because I shouldn’t be a father.”

“That’s the most ridiculous excuse I’ve ever heard! Steve, you’d be an amazing dad…” she trailed off at the expression on his face. “Okay, I missed something. What did I miss?”

“I’ve always known I shouldn’t be a father, Tasha. My genes are weak, I wouldn’t want to put any kid though the hell I went through as a child; puny, fragile, allergic to everything. The serum altered my body but not my DNA. Any child of mine wouldn’t take after me as I am now,” he tapped fingers on his broad chest. “I couldn’t knowingly bring a child with those genes into the world. It wouldn’t be right.”

“Oh,” astonished, Natasha stared at him. She didn’t resist when he drew her into his arms, hugging her close, tucking her head in under his chin.

“So, you see,” he murmured, his deep voice rumbling in his chest and transmitting through her whole body, so she _felt_ his words, “I’m _glad_ you can’t have kids. It allows _me_ not to feel guilty, that I can’t give them to you.”

“You really are the perfect man,” Natasha sighed, snuggling in closer to him. He laughed quietly.

“Not even close. If I was, I’d be content to snuggle and hold you just now rather than have a rather large part of my brain still focussed on that comment you made before.”

“Which comment?”

“The one about fucking you bareback as much as I wanted, you delightfully crude woman.” One large hand slipped to her waist, easing under the hem of the stretchy top she was wearing, pulling it upwards. “I have no doubt you know _exactly_ what remarks like that do to a man.”

“I thought they’d turn you off, rather than on,” Natasha almost purred as he began to stroke the small of her back. “I didn’t think you’d like me if I was crude.”

“I’m a man,” he pushed her to lie back on the couch, “not a saint. And believe me I’ve heard it all before. I grew up in Depression-era Brooklyn and then went to war, remember. I might not like to use them myself, but even seventy years later, the only new swear words I’m hearing are in foreign languages.”

“Oh,” Natasha sighed as he unfastened her pants and slid them slowly down over her hips, kissing her skin as he revealed it, “am I corrupting you with Russian?”

“I think I heard most of the Russian, German, French and Italian ones back then too, actually. It’s the Punjab Bruce lets loose when things go wrong in his lab that’s the real eye-opener.”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh. She stopped when Steve kissed her, though, all humour driven away by the urgent heat of his mouth. And just that fast they were tearing at each other’s clothes, panting with need. She ripped his T-shirt in half down the front, frantic to feel his skin against hers, moaning with pleasure when she finally managed to get her bare breasts pressed against his muscled chest.

“Tasha. _My_ Tasha.” She’d never heard that note in his voice: he sounded almost savage. His blue eyes gleamed as he lifted her hips and pushed slowly into her.

“Yes,” she gasped in response. “ _Steve_. Oh, _yeeeessss!_ ” He was big enough to put pressure inside her on that spot which most men just couldn’t reach. Natasha’s eyes rolled back in her head as he thrust slowly, his hands gently adjusting her hips until he found the perfect angle. A strange sound filled the room, and she realised after a moment that it was coming from her own throat; she was _yowling_ like a cat in heat as Steve thrust hard inside her, and she absolutely couldn’t bring herself to care.

Steve absolutely understood why men had killed for Natasha’s sake; why she was such a spectacularly good spy. For the sake of one more moment clasped inside her moist heat, he’d have blurted every secret he knew too. She was coming apart under him, clawing at his shoulders with her long nails, screaming something in Russian he didn’t understand but the meaning was perfectly clear when her legs wound around his waist and she jerked him harder against her. He could feel her coming, feel the ripple of powerful internal muscles beginning to clench around him tightly, and he was powerless to do anything but let go and follow her off that cliff edge of ecstasy.

 


	58. Chapter Fifty - Sex and Cookery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jen demonstrates her talents in the kitchen. Clint realises just how damn lucky he is.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Army of Two: The Dum Dums  
> We Belong: Pat Benatar  
> French Kissin’ In The USA – Blondie
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters except for my Svendson family of OCs.

Jen found them in Bruce’s lab a couple of hours later. Bruce was mumbling over test printouts and, slightly to her surprise, Clint was reading what appeared to be a very heavy tome on neurophysiology with every appearance of interest. He closed it as Jen came in and stood to greet her.

“Hey there beautiful girl.” She walked straight into his arms and turned her face up for his kiss. He obliged happily before asking; “You all right?”

“Yeah. Mum and Dad are gonna catch a few hours sleep, they didn’t get much on the plane.”

Clint nodded, stroking Jen’s hair back from her cheek. The stubble rash had vanished from her jaw, but the mark on her neck was still black. He traced a finger over it and she gave him a smile full of promise.

“I need to talk to your father later. Ask him for your hand in marriage.”

Bruce heard that and lifted his head from his printouts. “Really? Congratulations!”

“Don’t spread it around yet,” Clint warned as Jen blushed and smiled a thank-you at Bruce. “We’ll tell the others later. But I already told you that you gotta be my best man.”

Bruce looked quizzical. “I thought you were kidding? Surely you’ve got older, closer friends than me? What about your family?”

“All my blood relatives are dead, and believe me my brother was a piece of work. My father too. As for old friends,” Clint took a deep breath, “well, I’d probably have asked Coulson if he’d made it. But after New York, even colleagues I thought _were_ friends don’t seem to want anything to do with me.” He felt Jen’s arms tighten around his waist. She looked angry on his behalf when he looked down at her. “You were the one who encouraged me to find Jen,” he said to Bruce, “and who helped me through the illness. I can’t think of anyone who I’d prefer to be my best man.”

Bruce scrambled out of his lab chair and came over to shake Clint’s hand and kiss Jen’s cheek. “I’d be _honoured_ ,” he said. “So when’s the wedding?”

“I don’t think we’d thought that far ahead!” Jen laughed when Clint looked startled. “Soon. I don’t see any reason to wait and I’ve never dreamed of a huge wedding and a big fluffy dress. Almost everyone I care about is right here in the Tower now, so maybe we can get married next week or something.”

Clint grinned. “I’m just picturing you in a big fluffy dress.”

“Don’t go there. I’d look like one of those dolls old ladies crochet to sit on top of toilet rolls.”

As that had been almost exactly the image in Clint’s mind, he doubled over laughing. Bruce fought to suppress chuckles, and Jen threw up her hands. “Stop it, the pair of you! I need your help anyway, Hawk. Since Mum and Dad are here, I’m going to make apricot chicken for dinner…”

Bruce shot upright. “Your apricot chicken? I _love_ your apricot chicken!”

“Is this another thing I missed out on when I was sick?” Clint grumbled.

“Yes, but you’re getting to _marry_ the woman, don’t complain. Her apricot chicken is _amazing_.”

“And will be eaten by the literal bucketload, so I need help preparing. Come along, Hawk,” she hooked small fingers into his belt and tugged him gently along after her. “Let’s see how you are with a kitchen knife.”

Clint smiled as they entered the elevator. “Oh, I’m good with all kinds of tools, in the kitchen and out of it, darlin’,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her waist and bending his head to lick the bruise on her neck.

“Maybe we don’t need to start cooking _just_ yet,” Jen said a little breathlessly, reaching up to put her arms around his neck.

“My apartment, JARVIS,” Clint muttered, and felt the elevator stop and change direction just before his lips crashed down on Jen’s.

They didn’t even make it as far as the bed. Clint ended up holding Jen up against the (inside) of the front door of his apartment, pumping roughly into her as she clawed at his shoulders and gasped out his name. “Fuck _yeah_ , that feels amazing, I fucking _love_ feeling you come,” he groaned as slick internal muscles clenched hard around his cock.

“Hawk,” Jen moaned, crazy with pleasure as she came. She bit Clint’s collarbone hard as he stopped kissing her. He let out an incoherent cry, straining against her, his head tipping back, and almost instantly Jen felt him pulsing hotly inside her.

Jen couldn’t imagine how Clint continued to hold her up. He was breathing hard, holding her against the door with his bodyweight pinning her and his big hands under her ass, but surely his legs must be shaking? Hers felt like cooked spaghetti! But he continued to hold her, his breathing slowly returning to a normal rhythm.

“I’d carry you to bed,” he murmured against her ear eventually, “except my pants are tangled round my knees and I’ll trip.”

Jen began to giggle, and finally managed to unlock her legs from around his waist. “Put me down, Hawk. I need a shower anyway. And _you_ need a shave.”

“You’re not wrong there,” he sighed, reluctantly setting her on her feet. “I’m starting to look like a hobo.”

“Handsome hobo,” deliberately she grabbed his ass as he bent to grab his pants and yank them back up. He yelped slightly.

“Don’t do that, or you won’t have time to cook at all today.” He shot her a look full of promise, his metallic eyes glinting at her. She grinned cheekily, scooped up her discarded clothes and scampered off to the bathroom. It wasn’t a surprise at all when he joined her in the shower, pinning her up against the wall, his hands on her breasts as he pressed against her back, murmuring in her ear how crazy he was about her until she turned and kissed him to silence, her soapy hand sliding slickly down his stomach to grasp his already-rigid cock.

Afterwards, though, Jen convinced him to behave himself and shave while she dried her hair, and then to put some clothes on and come to the big kitchen with her, although it was a tough decision to make, especially when she was sure he was deliberately taunting her by going commando. She licked her lips, watching as he fastened his belt, admiring the heavy planes of his chest and shoulders, those _delicious_ arms flexing as his hands moved deftly.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Clint warned as he saw Jen’s eyes glaze and her tongue swipe over her lower lip, “or I’m telling you we’re gonna be having takeout for dinner and Bruce will probably cry.”

“Plus Dad will wonder what I’ve been up to all day,” Jen sighed, still unable to stop staring. His chest and arms were truly a work of art. “You’d better put a shirt on. And not one of those skin-tight T-shirts that really doesn’t hide anything, either.”

“They’re the only kind I own,” Clint pointed out, “I don’t like baggy clothes, they flap and get in my way.” He pulled on a clean black tee and smirked at Jen, who just rolled her eyes and snorted.

“I reckon that’s a crap excuse and you just wear them because you know very well the effect they have on women.” She stalked out of the apartment with her nose in the air, suddenly feeling jealous. Clint followed, puzzled. He had no way of knowing that while he was ill, she’d had a tour of the Tower and seen the mailroom. He didn’t get the insane volume of fan mail that Thor, Tony and Steve did, but there’d been an overworked secretary sorting at a big desk, photos of scantily clad girls posing with bows and arrows spilling from envelopes, tall model-like girls with long legs and big boobs…

“Jen?” He caught up with her at the elevator. “What is it, darlin’?” He slipped one big hand around her waist and placed it firmly at the small of her back, holding her close to him. “I’m not interested in any other women, if that’s where this is coming from. I’ve never been serious about anyone, until you. I want _you_ to look at me. I want you to like the way _I_ look.”

“You always know the right thing to say,” she muttered it against his shoulder, feeling sheepish and unable to meet his eyes.

“You don’t have to be jealous,” Clint said it quietly, putting his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to make her look at him. “Neither of us do now, do we? We’re together and that’s it for us. No one else. Not ever. I’m not interested in anyone else but you.”

“Me neither,” Jen sighed, overwhelmed with relief, because somewhere deep inside she had been frightened that it might not all be real. This world was so _new_ ; superheroes, aliens, magic, incredible tech, all the rest of it; she had to remember that he’d been seeing and dealing with weird shit like this for a long time before the rest of them had dreamed it existed. Perhaps that was why he could accept more easily what still seemed fantastical to her.

“Good.” He relaxed, now that she had, and they walked into the kitchen together. There were several boxes and bags on the counter and a middle-aged Hispanic woman sorting through them, muttering to herself. Clint tensed at the unfamiliar face and Jen felt him shift, grabbed his hand as it ducked towards the knife in his boot.

“Clint, this is Conchita. She’s been working for Tony for years. Hi Conchita. You haven’t met my boyfriend Clint, have you?” Jen kept up the chatter, reassuring Clint. It transpired that Conchita’s two sons had both been put through college by the Stark Education Foundation. Even though they were both doing well for themselves (one an engineer with StarkCorp in LA, the other a lawyer in DC) and had begged their mother to give up work, she wouldn’t leave Tony’s employ, claiming that Pepper needed some help to keep him in hand.

It was Conchita, Clint learned, who acted as the housekeeper for Avengers Tower, making sure that the kitchen was stocked and the communal areas cleaned, the laundry done and returned to its owners, everything handled personally by a fiercely loyal cadre of women, all of whose children were educated, or in the process of being educated, on Stark’s dime. He’d never even thought about what hard work it must be to keep the Tower running smoothly, but now he did, he thanked Conchita profusely. She blushed and laughed as he charmed her, pinching his cheek and giving Jen an approving nod before bustling out.

“So,” Jen put a box down in front of him. “How are you at separating eggs?”

“I can do that. You put eggs in apricot chicken? That sounds odd. Is it Asian, like lemon chicken?”

“No,” Jen grinned. “Apricot chicken is a staple on the menu of most Australian households, I guess, though I have to admit I don’t know its origins. It’s roasted chicken pieces with a sweet apricot glaze. The eggs are for the Pavlova.”

He didn’t want to admit his ignorance of what the hell that was either, so he just started separating what seemed to be about a hundred eggs while Jen rapidly peeled and sliced apricots, dumping them into a simmering pot on the stove with honey and some white wine, turning on the four commercial-sized ovens, unpacking more groceries.

Clint had moved on to slicing the tips off green beans and dropping them into a pot of salted water Jen had put in front of him when Genviève Svendson wandered in, yawning.

“ _Bonjour, ma petite_ ,” she kissed Jen’s cheeks. “And what are we cooking?” she cast a discerning glance at Clint. “Ah, _haricots verts et les amandes. C’est bien_.”

“There are supposed to be almonds?” he paused.

“Later,” Jen said. “Don’t confuse him, _Maman_.”

“Men, they are easily confused, _n’est pas_?” Genviève grinned at Clint, and he smiled back. “So I see the _poulet aux abricots_ , the _haricots_ , the Pavlova, ah yes, your father will be ‘appy. _Les pommes de terre_?”

“ _Duchesse_ ,” Jen said, “I’ll put Clint on peeling them next.”

“And _les hors d’oeuvres_?”

“Hadn’t thought about that yet.”

Genviève clucked her tongue and opened the huge refrigerator, surveying the supplies inside. “I shall take care of that for you, then.”

“You don’t need to cook, Genviève, really,” Clint said, “Please, have a seat, relax! Can I get you a something to drink, a glass of wine perhaps?”

She smiled and fluttered her lashes at him. “Sweet boy. A glass of wine would be delightful, yes. But cooking _is_ relaxing, for me.”

It wasn’t very relaxing for Clint. By the time the others started to filter in, exclaiming about the wonderful smells, he felt as though he’d been turned into a kitchen slave. On the other hand, he’d been listening to Jen and her mother talk in French all afternoon and had developed all sorts of filthy ideas for things he wanted Jen to say to him in bed later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **French translations:**
> 
> **_Bonjour, ma petite_ – Good day, my little one**
> 
> **_N’est pas_ – isn’t it, isn’t that. In this context, Genviève means ‘isn’t that right?’**
> 
> **_Haricot verts et les amandes_ – Green beans and almonds**
> 
> **_C’est bien –_ That’s good**
> 
> **_Poulet aux abricots_ – chicken with apricots**
> 
> **_Pommes de terre_ – potatoes and ‘ _duchesse’_ is mashed buttery potatoes that are piped into swirls and baked to give a slight crispy crust**
> 
> **_Les hors d’oeuvres_ – savoury appetisers, usually bite-sized**


	59. Chapter Fifty-One - The Way To A Man's Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint has a very uncomfortable conversation with Jen's father.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> A Thousand Years: Christina Perri  
> I Wish It Would Rain Down: Phil Collins  
> All I Want Is You: U2
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters except for my Svendson family of OCs.

If he hadn’t already convinced Jen to marry him, Clint would have moved heaven and earth to do so after he’d tasted her cooking. And if he hadn’t been confident of her love, he would have been seriously paranoid about the adoring looks being sent her way by all of the other men (and, indeed, all of the women!) around the table as they ate. Even Queen Frigga – who had surprised them all by still being here, when she walked in with Thor and a pink-cheeked Jane – asked for a second helping of the Pavlova, which turned out to be a massive meringue nest filled with fresh fruit and whipped cream. Jen had, with great foresight, made three of them, but there were still only crumbs left when everyone had finished.  
As it was, Clint sat beside Jen feeling unutterably smug. Right up until the last plates had been cleared away and Jen’s father asked quietly if he could have a private word.  
Clint felt rather than saw Jen go tense on his other side. He put a gentle hand on her arm, reassuring her, and then he stood and said; “Of course, Rik. This way.”  
They went to the Avengers Bar, quiet now though undoubtedly the others would be joining them soon. Clint waved at the bar, offering Rik a drink. The other man looked along the selection, muttered something about piss-weak Yank beer, and selected one of the expensive European beers Thor had decided he liked the taste of (even though they didn’t get him drunk). Clint debated taking one of the same beers, and then shrugged mentally and took a Coors. He wasn’t going to play a role for Jen’s father. Jen accepted him for who he was, and that was enough for him.  
Rik didn’t sit down, but wandered off to stand by a window, looking out at the spectacular view.  
“You wanted to talk to me?” Clint said eventually. He could have started, he supposed, but Rik had asked to talk to him. “About me and Jen?”  
“My son vouches for you and my daughter loves you,” Rik took a slug of his beer and turned to face Clint, and the grin quirking his mouth was so Jen that Clint started with surprise. “I trust their judgement. No, I wanted to talk to you about Loki. From what I understand from Lady Frigga, you were wronged by him too, and his punishment for that was just lumped in with all the rest after the Battle of New York. Genviève doesn’t believe what he did to Jen is punishable by death, and I daresay it isn’t. But frankly? I’ll take any excuse.”  
“Huh,” surprised, Clint flopped down in a club chair near the window. “I thought you were gonna give me a hard time about Jen,” he admitted to Rik’s quizzical look.  
“What’s the point?” the older man shrugged. “Five minutes with Jen and she had me convinced. The pair of you were meant to be.” He grinned when Clint looked even more surprised. “Look – all this rebirth and soul-mates stuff seems weird, but facts are facts, and the one fact that I am certain of is that the very first time I saw Genviève, she was tapping me on the arm at a music concert and asking if she could sit on my shoulders for a better view in that French accent she knows very well can melt a man’s knees. But the moment our eyes met she stopped talking and we both just stared at each other for about ten minutes. I knew her, the moment I saw her eyes; knew that she was the only one for me. She says she felt the same way.”  
Clint nodded. Arthur and Guinevere: how many times over the centuries had they found each other, stared into each other’s eyes and just known?  
“So in some ways, I can accept who Lady Frigga says we are. Or were. It makes sense, because of what I see in Genny’s eyes.” Rik looked down, awkwardly picking at the label on his beer bottle, obviously a little uncomfortable discussing how deeply he loved his wife with someone who was a stranger to him. “If you and Jen are now bound by the same sort of compulsion – well, I know I’d have killed anyone, even in that first moment of seeing Genny, who tried to separate us. So, no. I’ll not try to interfere between you and Jen. I love my daughter far too much to push her away just because of a father’s natural instinct that no one could possibly be good enough for his little girl.”  
“I asked her to marry me,” Clint said, trying to give Rik some peace of mind, “and we’d like your blessing.”  
“You have it.” Rik quirked that grin again that made Clint twitchy. “Because she’s so much like her mother, I know you’ll spend your life absolutely enslaved to the little madam’s every whim.”  
“Damn right I will,” Clint said, heartfelt, and Rik laughed and leant over to shake his hand.  
“I suppose I should do the responsible father thing and ask how you’re going to provide for you both? Jen’s capable of earning a good wage on her own, but I guess, I want to make sure…”  
Clint shrugged a bit sheepishly. “Right now I’m living here because it’s convenient while we sort out just what exactly the Avengers Initiative is going to do. Jen’s working for Stark, so the location works for both of us. But if we want to move out, get our own place, well, I’ve got money.”  
Rik raised his eyebrows interrogatively. “Ballpark?”  
“Enough that I could retire to a tropical island permanently if I wanted to. I was a rather expensive freelancer for a while and S.H.I.E.L.D. didn’t try to touch my, uh, accumulated earnings when they recruited me. Plus they paid quite well, and I never had anything to spend my money on, really.” He didn’t mention the half-dozen independent safe houses and the thirty safe-deposit boxes he’d set up around the world in case things ever went south for him. They were fallback positions he hoped he’d never have to use. “I own several apartment buildings in major cities worldwide. The one in London’s probably the most valuable, but I have an annual after-tax, completely legitimate income in the mid-seven figures from various investments.”  
Rik leaned back, his lips forming a soundless whistle. “Well, that’s that question answered.”  
“At the moment Natasha is my primary beneficiary – I have no living family left, and she’s been my closest friend for a long time – but I will meet with my lawyer soon and have my will changed so Jen gets everything in the event of my death. Or disappearance, or capture by the enemy.”  
Rik was a former soldier; he knew how that worked. He only nodded without protest, getting up and returning to the bar for another beer. Clint nodded as Rik held up another Coors towards him.  
“All right then, Loki,” Clint said when Rik sat down and just looked at him silently. “Fuck. I avoided telling the S.H.I.E.L.D. psychologists half of this stuff, and now I have to spill to my future father-in-law?”  
“I’m not going to force it out of you, Clint.” Rik took a swig of his beer. “Jen said she’d told you I used to be Special Forces, that I’ve had my own experiences with PTSD. Iraq wasn’t pretty, and neither was East Timor, nor a few of the other places I’ve been that officially we were never there. I was black ops, but it was still conventional warfare. Loki’s magic and mind-tricks are beyond me, I’m afraid.”  
Clint sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb. “I’m with you loud and clear on that one, sir.”  
“Call me Rik. Please.”  
“Rik, then. Well, yeah, I’ve been there and done that in the black ops world too. S.H.I.E.L.D. are called in on the specialty shit, the X-Files type of stuff, so I’ve seen my fair share of that too. But I’m a sniper; I work better from a distance. Loki was the first time it got up close and personal for me. He got into my head, dug around in my memories, used what I knew to try and destroy everything I ever gave a damn about, and I fucking hate him for it.” The words spilled out of Clint like lancing a festering wound, and Rik just sat and listened without judging him.  
“And I hate him most of all for touching Jen,” Clint finished passionately a few minutes later. “She’s the best thing that ever happened to me, the only thing I had left that he hadn’t poisoned, after the battle when I finally had time to try and sort through the fucking mess he’d left in my head. I – clung to the memory of Jen like a touchstone, in those days in sickbay when I was putting myself back together. I don’t think I’d really planned to go find her, I just wanted to make sure that she was okay and safe – I think maybe I was frightened I’d contaminate her, too. Only Tony had already offered her a job.”  
“And you were sucked in whether you liked it or not,” Rik murmured.  
“Yeah, and once I saw her again – it might have been part of the spell thing Loki put on me, to seek out a mate quickly so I could transform, I don’t know, but I couldn’t help myself.” Clint glanced almost sheepishly at Rik, but the older man was only looking at him with an expression of complete understanding. “I never wanted to drag Jen into this mess,” he half-apologised. “If I could, I’d have made sure Loki never got within a mile of her.”  
“What’s done is done,” Rik leaned over and clinked his beer bottle against Clint’s. “For what it’s worth, I don’t see as how you could have done anything differently. Don’t see that I’d have done anything differently, given the tactical situation and the resources you had to work with.”  
The elevator doors opened, and they both looked up to see Steve, Tony and Bruce come into the room. The three men nodded to them and went to the bar for drinks, seating themselves across the room. Even Tony wasn’t rude enough to want to get in on this conversation.  
A couple of minutes later, Thor and Jacques came in with Jane and Darcy. Darcy had been gone all day, spending time with some friends she had in New York, and hadn’t met Jacques’ parents yet, so Jacques led her over to introduce her to Rik. Darcy stammered and blushed, very unlike her normal confident self, so Clint stayed, kindly helping ease her into the conversation even though he wanted badly to go and find Jen.  
“Where’s your mother?” Rik was the one who asked the question of Jacques a few minutes later. Jacques looked at him in a completely befuddled way, as though he didn’t understand the question. “Jacques. Where is your mother? And your sister?”  
Jacques looked around the room as though it hadn’t even occurred to him that the two women weren’t present, and seeing the look on his face, Clint had a sudden sinking feeling.   
“Steve, where’s Natasha?” he called across the room, standing up, and his suspicions were confirmed when Steve got the same bemused look on his face.  
Queen Frigga. It had to be. She was the other person missing, and she too had magic.   
“THOR!” Clint went racing across the room. “What the hell is your mother up to?”  
“My – mother?” Thor too looked confused.  
“Fucking hell, she put some sort of spell on the lot of them!” Clint whirled on Rik, the only other person in the room who looked concerned. She must have done it after the two of them had left the kitchen. “Where are they?” he shouted. “JARVIS! Where are Jen and Natasha, and Mrs Svendson and Queen Frigga?”  
“They are – in sub-basement 16, Mr Barton,” JARVIS replied, but he too sounded slow and sluggish.  
“Shit!” Rik joined Clint as he dashed towards the elevators. The doors didn’t open. Nor did the door to the fire stairs.  
“TONY!” Clint yelled. “Tell JARVIS to let out of here!”  
“Of course. JARVIS, override protocol Virginia Seventy Seven.” Tony came to stand beside Clint, looking slightly concerned, but obviously not understanding what he was so wound up about.  
“Acknowledged, Sir.” JARVIS sounded normal again. But a moment later, the AI spoke. “I am unable to assist you, Sir.” He sounded aggrieved. “My interface with the Tower’s physical systems appears to be missing.”  
“Fuck this,” Clint sprinted back across the room, vaulted up onto the bar and yanked the cover off an air vent. Just as he was grasping the lip to pull himself up into the duct, he heard Natasha’s voice, and paused. Her image appeared on the big flat-screen TV across from the bar.  
“Now don’t interfere, boys,” the redhead’s lips curved in a smile as she spoke to what looked like the camera pickup on her phone. “This is women’s business. I’m going along as backup.” She panned the phone so they could see Frigga, Jen and Genviève walking along the corridor in front of her. “You lot just stay put and we’ll be with you shortly. And Barton, get out of the damn vents. Lady Frigga’s made sure you can’t get down here, so you’re wasting your time.”  
“Natasha!” Clint shouted, leaping down off the bar. “Don’t you dare turn your damn phone off! Natasha!” But the screen went blank. “JARVIS, is there a camera down there in the holding cell? Can you switch it on?”  
“Yes, Mr Barton, I am able to assist you with that,” JARVIS sounded pleased to be able to help with something. The TV came back on and they could see Loki’s cell: the Asgardian was sitting against one of the glass walls, his head hanging low. And then they saw his head snap up and he got to his feet, obviously seeing the women enter the room, and quickly went down to one knee again, remaining there with his head bowed.  
“Sound, JARVIS?” Tony asked.  
“There is no microphone attached, but I may be able to switch on Ms Romanoff’s phone,” JARVIS said, and after a moment the sound came on to match the picture. The four women had moved into place in front of Loki’s cell, though Frigga made no move to open the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments? Enjoying the story so far? Always like to hear from readers!


	60. Chapter Fifty-Two - Women's Justice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The girls take matters into their own hands. Loki finds out his fate.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Ever Fallen In Love: Buzzcocks  
> Not Ready To Make Nice: Dixie Chicks  
> Unwell: Matchbox Twenty
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters except for my Svendson family of OC's.

“I want,” Genviève said, “to understand _why_ , Loki. Did you truly think Jen would choose you over Clint, if she had the chance?”

“Why would she not?” Loki countered. “He is but mortal, after all. If she were to bond to me, become my mate instead, I would have made her a goddess, a Princess of Asgard.”

“Not a clue,” Jen murmured to Natasha, shaking her head. “He really hasn’t a clue, has he?”

Genviève seemed stumped by Loki’s answer, turning to look at Frigga. The queen stepped forward, looking closely at her adopted son. “But _why_ , Loki? Why _Jen_?”

“ _You_ ask me that? You _know_ how I felt about Ginevra, and you and Father cooked up the plot to bond her with Arthur without ever offering her the choice!” Loki came to his feet, facing his mother angrily. “I would have given anything – _everything_ – for the chance to just tell Ginevra how I felt about her and ask her to come away with me, but you made damn sure she was wedded and bedded before I got the opportunity!”

Frigga shook her head slowly. “Ginevra was offered a choice, Loki; I presented it to her myself. Neither you nor Arturus were permitted to be present because we did not want either of you trying to influence her decision. I told her everything; laid out all the options open to her, and she chose Arturus. She wept for you, because she did not want to see you hurt – but she chose Arturus.”

“No,” Loki seemed almost to shrink in on himself. “ _No_. You lie!” He looked at Genviève, and then back at his mother. “She would have chosen _me_. She would…” he trailed off when Frigga just stared back at him, her expression calm, waiting for him to accept the truth. “She _did_ choose him, didn’t she?” He began to breathe hard, almost hyperventilating. “She chose _him_.”

“You wanted to possess her,” Frigga said, her voice hard and pitiless. “You loved her bright spirit, her joy in life, and you wanted it for yourself as a child wants a shiny toy. You have never learned what it is to _truly_ love, my son. To put another’s needs before your own, to join with them in a true partnership where both are equals. Ginevra chose Arturus because he _loved_ her and she knew that she could be his _partner_ ; could make a difference in their world. With you, she would have been nothing more than your _pet_. And all these years later, you _still_ have not learned your lesson.”

Loki bowed his head for several long minutes, obviously re-aligning his perspective, and then he looked up and fixed his green gaze on Jen. “I am truly sorry,” he said hoarsely, “for trying to separate you and Barton. It was beyond wrong, it was cruel, and I wish you both every blessing, in this life and all those to come. And Ginevra – Genviève. I know you don’t remember, but I am sorry for what I put you through, too, all those years ago. I am sorry for hating you since, for not choosing me. You made the right decision; I was not worthy of you. I made my oath to you then in pain and anger, but I was no less bound to fulfil it; and I failed you when I tried to dishonour your daughter. My life is yours to take, my lady. If you will not wield the blade yourself, there is one here skilled and willing to do it for you; I wronged her also.” He lifted his hand towards Natasha. “Agent Romanoff, my death will wipe out much of that red in your ledger.”

“You can’t wipe out blood with more blood,” Natasha said, speaking for the first time since entering the room. “It doesn’t work that way, Loki. You can’t pay a debt of honour with your death. Only with your life. I’ve learned that particular lesson the hard way, and so must you.”

Loki’s brow furrowed, and he stared at her in bemusement. “I don’t understand…”

“I do not choose your death, Loki Odinson,” Genviève said then. “I choose your _life_. You gave me – Ginevra – your oath. I release you from it; but in its place I require that you make a new vow. Serve my daughter, and her allies the Avengers. Become Earth’s champion, in the same way as your brother has chosen to be. Live among mortals, and perhaps, one day, you might find yourself worthy of being loved by one of them. _This_ is what I require of your life.”

Genviève had originally wanted Loki to re-swear his oath to Jen, but Jen had pointed out practically that Loki could find himself in a similar situation in the future. He couldn’t know who might be a descendant of _her_ reborn soul, after all; he could wind up forsworn again. What if one of her descendants turned out to be a bad guy, too? No. Better to make Loki join Thor in defending Earth. The Avengers could use a member with Loki’s power, and Frigga had advised them what words to make him say in order to make his oath watertight.

“Your mercy is great indeed,” Loki said softly. “More than I deserve.”

Frigga opened the cell door with a wave of her hand and gestured Genviève forward. She stepped hesitantly in front of Loki, who remained kneeling at her feet, and held out her hands. He placed his own long-fingered hands between them. Frigga held her hands over them both, and Loki flinched, looking up at her.

“This time,” Frigga informed her adopted son, “I am making sure that you cannot be _accidentally_ forsworn. I will use my own magic to bind your oaths, blood and bone. Choose to break it, and you _will_ die.”

Loki looked from his mother, to Jen, to Genviève. He stopped there, staring at her, and said quietly, sincerely; “Good.”

Frigga guided Genviève in what to say, releasing Loki from his earlier oath to Ginevra and her descendants. And then Jen took over, placing her hands over Loki’s. He looked earnestly up at her from those lucent green eyes.

“This is your last chance, Loki,” Jen said. “Unless and until I choose to let someone else guide your choices, you will fight with the Avengers and work for the good of humanity – as _I_ deem it to be. Do you accept this task?”

“I accept it, and I give you my oath that I will obey your directives and serve your cause with all that is in me, for all time, without attempting to subvert your wishes,” Loki responded, repeating the words Frigga murmured to him. “My life is forfeit to your will.”

“Done,” Frigga said, and a golden light shimmered for a moment where Jen’s hands touched Loki’s. “That was brave, Lady Jen, after what he did to you,” she drew Jen aside as Loki slumped for a moment, the magic taking a toll on him as it settled into him, body and soul.

“I don’t think he _can_ hurt me anymore,” Jen replied, glancing back at Loki, “can he?”

Frigga shook her head. “No, it is not in him now. You have still bound him to you, though. It is a great responsibility that you have accepted.”

Jen grimaced. “Someone had to. Loki reasoned that the Chitauri invasion was for the good of the world, after all. There needs to be someone who can override his logic, to speak for humanity if necessary. And, no offense, Tasha, I’m not sure that enslaving someone with Loki’s power to S.H.I.E.L.D. or any other agency or government is entirely wise.”

“I’m _quite_ sure that you’re correct,” Natasha drawled with a grin in response.

“And perhaps it’s arrogant of me, but who else can I trust, that Loki would have agreed to give his oath to? Jacques perhaps – but we all agreed that this was _women’s_ business, that the men would have had some hot-headed violent reaction.” Jen grinned, and then looked up at the camera in the corner of the room, which had, she’d noticed, started to follow their movements a few minutes ago. “Isn’t that right, Hawk?”

“We’re not done yet,” Natasha reminded her, and the four women turned back to Loki, who had regained his composure and his feet.

“One more thing,” Jen said to Loki directly. “I don’t believe you’re ready to be wandering around among humanity yet. You still have too much to learn. And frankly, I don’t want to see your face around for a while, after what you tried to pull.”

Shamed, Loki dropped his gaze, but she stepped closer, making him meet her eyes. “So, I have both a punishment and a task for you. Queen Frigga has assured me that she has a secure cell waiting for you on Asgard.”

Loki flinched and shot a look of betrayal at his mother. She raised one eyebrow at him. “Count yourself lucky, my son. I have removed sensitive body parts from men for lesser offences than yours.”

“You will remain in the cell for one year,” Jen continued when Loki looked back at her. “And during that time, you will study our culture. Unless the Avengers have need of your special skills, you will spend all of your time studying and learning. We will supply reading material and Queen Frigga will make it possible for you to talk with people we feel you can learn from, friends of ours. You need to _understand_ humans, Loki. You’re too used to looking at us as puny insects, beasts that you were born to rule. If you truly want to love, and _be_ loved, you need to lose that attitude, and accept that there are things you can learn from us.”

“Thor had to find love first to learn the lesson,” Frigga murmured, “but I have hopes that you are bright enough to learn the lesson first.”

That pricked Loki’s pride. “I will learn,” he said fervently. “I will learn whatever I must.”

“You better had,” Natasha fingered her guns. “Because when you come back, I’ll be watching, Loki. One foot over the line, and you’ll find out exactly what _I_ thought your punishment should be.”

Bested once already by Natasha in a battle of wills, Loki only nodded warily at her. And then his mother placed a hand on his arm and said;

“We will meet again, my friends, in a happier time, I hope. Heimdall! Open the Bifrost!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Okay – so some of you might not like where I went with this. But it was Jen’s decision to make, not Hawkeye’s, and while he’s a stone-cold assassin, she’s not. _Justice_ is served, IMHO.**
> 
> **(Plus – I’m not a blood and gore type person. And Loki’s really not all that easy to kill, for those of you who have seen Thor 2. This way, I get to control his future direction, rather than have to worry about him coming back looking for revenge later.)**
> 
> **Check back shortly – there is an Interlude coming up where you get to see Loki’s penance and find out JUST HOW EVIL Jen and Natasha really are.**


	61. Chapter 52a - Interlude - Loki's Penance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki discovers exactly what his penance will consist of.
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters except for my Svendson family of OCs.

**Part 1**

Loki looked around his glass-walled cell. Comfortable, if not luxurious. He’d spent plenty of time in worse. There was a tall bookshelf beside the bed, stocked with books. They were colourful, mostly paperbacks, unlike the leather-bound tomes found in Asgard’s libraries, so he walked over to look. These must be some of the books Jen and Natasha thought he should read. He started at the top shelf.

 _To Kill A Mockingbird. Lord Of The Rings. Jonathan Livingston Seagull._ Seven books about someone called _Harry Potter_. _Catch-22. A Town Like Alice. 1984. The Last Unicorn. On The Road. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. Pride and Prejudice._

He grimaced over the last title in the row. That was what had led to his downfall, was it not? Too much pride, and a prejudice towards humanity that was quite clearly unjustified. He plucked the book from the shelf and lay down on the bed. Well, he might as well start somewhere.

**Part 2**

**A few weeks later**

The bookshelf was ever-changing. Some of the books remained in place after he had read them, and Loki discovered that books placed on the topmost shelf did not disappear. He took to putting his favourites there when he finished them, so that he could go back and read them again. He had no visitors, though, besides Frigga, who stopped by every few days. Food and drink was delivered by magic. And while Loki enjoyed the reading – some of the books were truly gripping, perhaps it was the short lives of mortals that fired their imagination so – he did miss the contact with other people. He missed Thor most of all, though he would almost rather have died than admit it.

And then, one afternoon, he was reading _King Lear_ for the third time – it took at least three readings, he had found, to get all of the nuances in Shakespeare, even though the language didn’t seem archaic to him – when there was a sudden shimmering above a chair in the corner of his room. He started to his feet, dropping the book, hands groping for a weapon that wasn’t there.

The shimmer faded, and a petite woman was sitting in the chair. White-haired and dark-skinned, she was young and quite beautiful. She was – human? Perhaps? There was something about her that seemed otherworldly.

“Hello,” the woman said when he just stared at her. “You must be Loki. It’s nice to meet you.” She stood and offered her hand for him to shake, but his hand went right through her. “Sorry about that. I’m dreaming back home in my bed, I’m told, but it’s a lucid dream. Natasha said that she thought I was someone you might like to meet.”

She _radiated_ serenity. Even more than Frigga did. Her eyes were startlingly blue against her dark skin and pure white hair. “You’re a friend of the Black Widow?” Loki was surprised that someone who seemed so peaceful would have a friend like Natasha.

The woman let out a soft laugh, and then hummed thoughtfully. “Friends, I’m not so sure we’re friends. We have been allies in the past, though, and I daresay will be again. She’s a good person to have on your side, if you didn’t already know that.”

“I think I did.” Loki gestured her to sit, drawing another chair up to face her. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you better hospitality, Miss..?”

“Munroe. Ororo Munroe. But please, call me Ro.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: If you don’t know who Ororo is, she’s Storm in the X-Men movies.**
> 
>  
> 
> **(and NO. Storm is NOT going to be a love interest for Loki. I have PLANS for him)**
> 
>  
> 
> **And yes, you can LOL over me making Loki read Pride and Prejudice. It’s one of my favourite books and he could learn a lot from it! Who knows, maybe he’ll have a Mr Darcy-esque revelation and turn out to be a decent enough guy in the end – OR WILL HE?**
> 
>  
> 
> **Hehehehe…**


	62. Chapter Fifty-Three - Let's Not Fight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint tries very hard not to lose his temper. Jen proves to be very good at convincing him he's not really all that angry with her.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Keep The Faith: Bon Jovi  
> Don’t Stop Believing: Journey – (this song is mainly in here for the Steel Panther and Jeremy Renner YouTube clip holy CRAP Renner can really sing)  
> All I Need: Live
> 
> Disclaimer: All characters belong to Marvel apart from my Svendson family of OCs.

“I’d ask what the hell you were thinking,” Clint said to Jen when she finally came out of the elevator with Natasha and Jen, “but clearly what you were thinking is that I didn’t get to have a say in this.”

“No,” she said calmly, walking over to the bar, collecting a wineglass and pouring a glass of white for herself. “You didn’t.”

“I’d really rather not fight about it…”

“Good, I don’t want to fight with you either. Although I daresay the make-up sex would be worth it.” She cast him a cheeky look, and was rewarded as he visibly ground his teeth. “Hawk, it wasn’t up to you, or to me. It was Mum’s choice. She and Lady Frigga made the decision. I just accepted that it was a fair punishment, and then agreed to take on the responsibility of keeping an eye on Loki. Stop grinding your teeth, it can’t be good for them.”

“I wish,” he gritted out, “that you’d consulted with me about it first.”

“Would you have let me go ahead?”

“I’d have _tried_ to stop you,” he admitted unwillingly.

“I know. But realistically, this is the best option for all concerned. Loki is too powerful a tool to waste, if it’s possible to turn him to good use. And this was the only way we could come up with to do that for certain.”

Clint didn’t like it for one moment, but her logic was inarguable. “If you’d talked it though with me first,” he said finally, “I would have gone with you and supported your decision. I didn’t like that you were there with only Natasha as your bodyguard.”

“All right,” Jen smiled, and moved close to him, allowing him to wrap his arms around her. “I can accept that. As long as _you_ can accept that I really don’t need a bodyguard anyway.” She guided his hand to the small of her back, and he laughed as he felt the outline of a gun there under her shirt.

“That’s my girl.”

Just then, there was a squeal across the room, from where Genviève had been having a very similar conversation with Rik, and Genviève came rushing over and grabbed Jen for a hug, then let her go and reached up to kiss Clint on both cheeks.

“Engaged! You’re engaged! You didn’t tell me!”

“What?” and suddenly everyone was crowding around them. The confused apathy of the others had broken when Frigga and Loki left on the Bifrost.

“Where’s the ring?” Darcy demanded, and Clint looked sheepish.

“I haven’t had time to buy her one yet…”

“ _Buy_ her a ring! Certainly not!” Genviève cried. “I will make it myself! I have friends in New York – I can arrange to borrow a studio – I’ll take you to meet some gem dealers tomorrow and you can choose a stone…”

Clint smiled, remembering that Jen’s mother was a renowned jewelry artisan. “Thank you, Genviève,” he said. “Would you make me a wedding ring at the same time as you make Jen’s rings?”

She kissed both his cheeks again, her eyes wet, and then Jen was being dragged away by the women, giggling about dresses and who knew what, and Clint was being clapped on the back by far too many superhumanly strong hands and having toxically strong drinks shoved into his hand by Tony and Thor.

Natasha seemed uncertain which group to join, but in the end the girly chatter got to be too much for her and she made a quiet escape, coming over to Clint and drawing him into a warm hug.

“Congratulations. She’s the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I know,” he said simply. “She’ll ask you to be maid of honor, you know.”

“And you want me to accept so I can guard her every moment you’re not with her,” Natasha grinned at him.

“Nah,” he grinned back, thinking about that gun at the small of Jen’s back. “She doesn’t need a bodyguard. She put a bullet through Loki, which is more than any of us ever managed, after all.”

“True enough,” Natasha conceded, nodding.

“I want you to accept because without you, I’d never have made it this far. I want you up there with us on our wedding day, and if and when the time comes for you – with Steve, or whoever – I want the honour of giving you away, my best friend, my sister of the heart.”

This time, when she hugged him, he thought he heard ribs creak. “It’ll be Steve. When he gets up the guts to ask,” she whispered in his ear. “And if I can make myself say yes!”

“Okay. Do you want me to give him a hard time if he asks my permission?” Clint whispered back, and the two of them collapsed into giggles.

“That doesn’t bother you?” Jacques asked Jen in an undertone as they watched Hawkeye and the Black Widow actually holding each other up, they were laughing so hard.

“No more than it would bother him if it were you and I laughing like that,” Jen replied, smiling with amusement at their antics.

“Fair ‘nuff. Don’t think I’d take it that well if it was Darcy and some good-looking bloke, though,” Jacques muttered.

“Oh, really?” Jen glanced across to where Darcy had finally been introduced to Genviève and was being hugged warmly and treated to a torrent of half-French, half-English exclamations on how pretty she was, look at her beautiful curly hair, what wonderful child-bearing hips – the last remark was fortunately in French, or Darcy might have passed out. “Like that, is it?”

Jacques chewed on his thumbnail sheepishly, and Jen removed it from his mouth almost absently. “Don’t do that, it’s revolting. You really like Darcy, don’t you?”

“I know she kind of got off on the wrong foot with you because she tried to set me up to fight Clint,” Jacques mumbled, “but she’s really nice. She’s by far the nicest girl who’s ever shown an interest in _me_. I think – well, I think she might be The One. The only thing is, she and Jane are going off to London in a couple of months to do some special work at the astronomical observatory in Greenwich for a while. And I can’t come up with a valid excuse to go with them.”

“Don’t be ridiculous; if nothing else Jane will need a bodyguard,” Jen pointed out firmly. “Thor will likely have to be on Asgard at least some of the time and I can’t see him wanting Jane running around loose.”

Jacques brightened at the thought. “Yeah, that’s true. Jane really does need a babysitter. Especially overseas.”

“See, little sis can solve all your problems.” Jen tugged on his shoulder, and Jacques sighed, bending down so she could kiss his cheek.

“Hawk’s not much shorter than me. Do you stand on a box to kiss him?” he said teasingly.

“No, he just uses all those lovely muscles and picks me up,” Jen said airily. “And then he pins me to the wall…”

“Too much information!” Jacques let out a horrified cry and put his hands over his ears.

“You asked!” she laughed at him. She caught Clint’s eye then, and, suddenly wanting to be alone with him, looked deliberately at the elevators and then back at him. He smiled, nodded, and spread his hand low by his side. _Five minutes_.

“Jen?” Clint called, closing the apartment door behind him. “Where are you?” He had gallantly allowed her to make her escape first; if they had left together it would have most likely been noticed.

“Waiting for you,” she called from the bedroom. He walked to the door and stopped, his mouth falling open. She was sitting up on his bed, wearing a silky, royal purple nightgown. The cut of the gown lifted and almost exposed her breasts, and the hem fell to just barely below her groin.

He’d thought Jen was beautiful in every colour he’d seen her wear: she was stunning in blue to match her eyes. But wearing purple, a colour he’d always liked, a shade that almost matched that in his changed eyes – she took his breath away. He took two giant strides forward, reaching the edge of the bed, yanking his shirt off over his head as he went.

“Fucking hell, you’re so gorgeous,” he murmured, bending over her, sweeping his eyes down her body again.

Jen stretched provocatively, deliberately, and smiled at the sound that came from the back of his throat. “Like what you see, my Hawk?” He was dragging off his boots and the rest of his clothes, never taking his eyes off her.

Clint felt as though he was choking on his own lust. It didn’t seem to matter how many times he made love to Jen, the fierce, intense need he felt to have her again didn’t diminish. Kicking his pants off, he reached out, placing his hands on either side of her body, lowering himself over her. “I’ve always thought that I see better from a distance,” he murmured, lowering his head to plant delicate kisses along her throat. “But close up you are just...” he couldn’t find the words, and Jen didn’t care as he let her know with his touch exactly what she meant to him.

“Stay close to me,” she whispered. “Stay close to me always, my love.”

“Always,” he promised her. Jen moaned as his mouth trailed down her chest, suckling and nipping at her through the thin silk barely covering her nipples. He was barely touching her, his strong body held suspended over hers by his powerfully muscled arms, his lips and hot tongue working at her breast their only point of contact. It was absolutely the most erotic thing Jen had ever experienced. She moaned and reached up to put her hands on Clint’s shoulders. And then gasped as he caught both her wrists in one strong hand and dragged them back above her head.

“No,” he growled softly against her throat. “This is for you, darlin’. Just for you.” He pressed her fingers gently against the base of the headboard until she grasped on. “Hold on there. Or am I gonna have to find my handcuffs?”

“N-no,” Jen gasped. “But don’t forget where they are. I – suspect I’m going to want to use them on you – sometime – ohhhh,” all thought disintegrated as Clint put his hands on her at last, one trailing down between her breasts, the other pushing the short nightgown up so he could dip between her thighs. “ _Hawk_.” His mouth was back at her breast again, and he bit at her nipple lightly through the wet, clinging silk.

“I really, really like you in purple,” he mumbled, kissing downwards, parting her thighs, pushing the nightgown higher still.

“I’ll remember that _oh my God_ yes, Hawk, do that again _right now_!”

Clint laughed huskily against Jen and nipped her again, using his strong hands to hold her hips in place as she almost bucked off the bed. One long slow lick, and then he settled in to feast on her properly, driving his tongue right into her and sucking hard on her bud.

He was watching her, those purple-and-gold eyes gleaming in the faint light in the room, and seeing him eat her out, making hungry noises against her, was more than Jen could stand. Her knees began to shake, warmth uncoiling fast in the pit of her stomach, and she bit her lip hard, tasting blood. He saw it and she could swear he _smirked_ against her before scraping his teeth over her clit.

Jen saw stars, her whole body shaking and quivering as she came hard into Clint’s mouth. He drank her down thirstily, savouring her taste, and then, unable to hold back any longer, moved up over her still-quivering body and plunged hard into her.

Jen let out a scream as the sensation of being filled tipped her right back over the edge again, and she lost her grip on the headboard and flung her arms around Clint. He let out a groan and pulled one of her knees up against his ribs, grinding himself deeper into her.

“Christ, darlin’, you’re so _tight_.”

“Is that a baseball bat in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?” Jen gasped, in between slow, deep thrusts that made her feel as though he was indeed fucking her with said bat, he felt so hard and thick inside her.

“Always pleased to see you…” Clint gazed deep into her eyes. “Sometimes I can’t think about anything but being inside you like this,” he confessed roughly.

“Good,” she hooked her free leg around his waist and dug her heel into his ass, pulling him deeper into her. “Because I’m _always_ thinking about having you inside me like this.”

“Yeah?” he grinned, bending his head to kiss her roughly. “Like this, or harder?” he thrust faster, rewarded by the sight of Jen tipping her head back, moaning, clinging to his shoulders tighter.

“More,” she begged him breathily when he began to lick and suck at her throat, “please, Hawk, more – harder – you _know_ what I want!”

“Yes, I know,” he murmured, his voice full of dark promise, and then he tightened his grip on her hips and began to really slam into her, knowing that he had to get her back up to orgasm quickly because he was getting way too close himself. Fortunately Jen liked this just as much as he did and he was able to let go as he felt her clamp down hard on him again, roaring out his release as he spurted, buried as deep inside her as he could get.

They lay pressed together, breathing hard, for long moments. Finally Clint rolled to his back, taking Jen with him, still holding her close, pressing soft kisses against her hair. She put her head on his chest and sighed with utter happiness. After a few minutes, though, she had to get up and go to the bathroom, and when she returned, found him on his knees, digging through a drawer in his bedside table.

“Aha!” he said triumphantly just as she arrived back at his side, and looked up at her with those amazing metallic eyes brimming with mischief.

“What?” Jen asked, flopping onto the bed, still relaxed with afterglow. And then she started to laugh as he dropped a pair of handcuffs on the bed beside her.

“I’m game if you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **(And NO. I am NOT writing the handcuffs sex scene. You can just imagine that one! Seriously, I’ve been writing these two doing it like bunnies for the last month!)**


	63. Chapter Fifty-Four - A Wedding, and a Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint and Jen tie the knot.
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Breathe: Faith Hill (my own walking-down-the-aisle song. Sorry. I’m a romantic. You didn’t figure that out by now?)  
> The song and lyrics referred to in the chapter is Unpack Your Heart: Philip Phillips (THANK YOU to BoomerCat for this song. You were right. It’s perfect)  
> Everything: Lifehouse
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all cahracters except for my Svendson family of OCs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Right, this might annoy some of you, but I’m skipping straight to the wedding. You can take it as read that Clint and Jen have lots of exceptionally good sex in the interim (go back and read a few of the smutty chapters if you’re that desperate – God knows I wrote enough of them in this story!) but realistically nothing between the last chapter and the wedding advances the plot. I was actually gonna stop at the end of the last chapter but I’ve been begged to write the wedding – yes, BoomerCat, I am looking at you!**
> 
> **This is the last chapter “proper” of this story. There will be TWO epilogues posted. If you don’t wish to read on to the sequel, _A Shattered Reflection_ , I suggest you read only epilogue 2.**
> 
> **If you do wish to read on to the sequel, there will be quite a few teasers and hints in epilogue 1. I am still working on it but expect to start posting soon, so you can subscribe to me as an author if you are interested in reading it! It will feature Bucky Barnes as the primary hero, but there’s still plenty of Clint and Jen (and Jacques and Darcy will be around too). It begins almost immediately after the events of Captain America: The Winter Soldier, so if you haven’t watched that yet, I recommend you do so. (Bearing in mind that Steve and Tasha are lovers in my version, as are Fury and Agent Hill).**
> 
> **There will also be several one-shots between the events of this story and the sequel, primarily to detail variations (or explanations) between my AU and the MCU. They will each be posted as separate stories in this series.**
> 
> **In the meantime, I’m working on several shorter stories, a Bruce/Paige from Scorpion story, Clint and Jemma Simmons in a very smutty story called Truth In A Bottle (which will also feature Steve and Skye), and a completely BONKERS story with my reviewer independentalto which kind of came out of the Steve-shouldn’t-have-kids thread from this story. We mused; what would happen if Cap had left a sperm sample and the Powers That Be tried to breed themselves a new generation of super-soldiers? And because we’re both clearly completely crackers, all sorts of strangeness and comedy has ensued** **J. Damn plot bunnies!**

_Three weeks later_

A week had turned out to be _slightly_ over-optimistic as a timeframe for a wedding. Clint and Jen could have cared less, but with Jen’s mother and (surprisingly) Pepper Potts insisting that it wasn’t enough time to get ready, they caved and set a date a bit further out. Jen firmly stated that she had no intention of waiting until Jane and Darcy got back from their London trip, though, because Jacques was going with them, and she wanted all her friends at her wedding anyway. So they had compromised on three weeks and Pepper had gone into organising overdrive.

Both Clint and Jen had taken to disappearing into the ducts whenever they heard Pepper’s heels clicking along the corridor. Fortunately she never did clue in that they were hiding from her, so she happily co-opted Genviève and the two of them made everything, in their words, ‘just perfect’!

The only thing that mattered to Jen was choosing a dress that Clint would like. And the only thing that mattered to Clint was that Jen would actually marry him, so when he stood on the rooftop of Avengers Tower and watched Rik escorting her to his side, wearing a beautiful slim-fitting long white gown with a gauzy silver overlay, his breath caught in his chest and he could only gaze at her, his eyes full, until Bruce nudged him in the ribs and reminded him to _breathe_.

They kept the wedding small. Just the residents of the Tower, and a couple of other special guests. Clint had very quietly asked Nick Fury if Coulson was ready to be ‘back from the dead’ yet, and Fury had apologised and said no, not yet. So Clint shrugged and asked Fury to his wedding instead.

“Bring Maria,” he called over his shoulder on his way out of Fury’s office on the helicarrier. “You need to stop being a caveman and let her see the light of day occasionally. She’s way too pale.” He winked at Agent Hill as she passed him on the way into Fury’s office, and she gave him a narrow-eyed glare and then a half-smile which was about as nice a look as she’d ever given him. Obviously Fury was mellowing her, hard though it seemed to believe.

Fury and Hill were there on the rooftop, standing with Steve, who hadn’t taken his eyes off Natasha. Acting as Jen’s maid of honor, Jen had insisted that Natasha choose a dress she actually liked and would wear again, and Tasha had picked out a short, backless number in emerald-green silk that matched her eyes. Darcy had asked Jen curiously if she wasn’t anxious Tasha would outshine her when they saw the dress, and Jen laughed aloud.

“Darce, I couldn’t care less if everyone else spends the whole ceremony staring at Tasha with their tongues hanging out. _Hawk_ will be looking at me, and that’s all I care about.”

 _Jen was quite right too_ , Darcy realised: Clint hadn’t even glanced at anyone else since Jen walked out onto the roof. It was a hell of a setting for a wedding, and at least it had the advantage of being private, fairly essential with a guest list like this one. Pepper had found a marriage celebrant who was utterly discreet – the list of celebrities he’d conducted ceremonies for had made even Pepper’s eyebrows shoot up, she’d had no idea some of these people were even married! – and he conducted the short, simple ceremony perfectly.

Bruce produced the rings at the appropriate moment – made by Genviève and Tony in Tony’s workshop – and Clint smiled as he slipped Jen’s onto her finger. Tony had insisted on making the rings from vibranium, saying it was just possible the rings would last as long as Clint and Jen’s love. Clint’s was plain and unadorned on the outside but had Jen’s full name engraved on the inside: Jen’s wedding ring had an arrow deeply incised into it and Clint had spent an entire day with a gem dealer Genviève had dragged him to, selecting the stones in her engagement ring. A circle of glimmering blue diamonds surrounded a fire opal Genviève had ended up sending Jacques back to Australia to collect from her personal stash.

Jen put Clint’s ring on his finger, looking up into his eyes. They had chosen their vows from a song Natasha had brought to them one day a couple of weeks ago, barging in waving Darcy’s purloined iPod and shouting “You have to listen to this! Guys, this is so YOU!”

“Show me something the rest never see. Give me all that you hope to receive. Your deepest regret dies with me,” she promised Clint, and he smiled and lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her rings.

They weren’t staying for a party after the ceremony. The greatest gift the world could offer them, Steve said seriously, was _time_. Time together, just to _be_ together. Tony had put a private jet at their disposal, and told them to just take off. Go wherever, do whatever they wanted.

“We can give you six months, I reckon,” Natasha said, embracing Clint. “You’ve got the beacon, Jen?”

Jen nodded, fingering the tiny arrow necklace at her throat. Natasha wore a matching necklace. Tony had made them while Genviève was making the rings. They might look fragile, but they were made of vibranium too and wouldn’t break.

“Take them off for more than fifteen minutes,” Tony said, giving the two women the necklaces, “and the other one will react. Plug the arrow-tip end into your Starkphone and you’ll get a last-known GPS fix on the other necklace.”

“I’ll only use mine if we get into a situation we absolutely can’t handle without Clint,” Natasha promised.

Jen nodded. She couldn’t imagine a situation where she’d need to use hers, but she could see that it might be useful if Natasha dropped off the grid and they needed to tell her to get back in touch sometime. “Keep an eye out for Jacques, when you can?” she asked.

“Of course,” Natasha kissed her cheeks warmly. “Have a wonderful time, and don’t worry about anything. Drop me an email now and then with a photo of somewhere tropical just to make me jealous.”

Maria Hill flew them to the small airfield Tony kept his jets at in a S.H.I.E.L.D. helicopter, and actually smiled at Jen, which startled Clint no end. Hill left them to board the jet, getting back in the chopper and heading back to the party. “Not going to miss a chance to get Nick to let his hair down,” she said with a sly grin, which made Clint laugh and remark that would be something to see if Fury actually had any hair.

Maria called him back before she left, and he walked back to the chopper with an enquiring smile.

“I’ve got one question for you, Barton,” she looked, suddenly, quite young and insecure. “How did you know – that Nick felt that way about me? I get that I was probably an open book…”

“You weren’t,” he shook his head, grinning. “As for Fury – that was easy. You remember that night in Monte Carlo?”

Maria did. It was a little over two years ago, before her promotion to Deputy Director: Romanoff had been undercover with Stark and they’d needed another female agent to accompany Barton into a gala event at the Grand Prix where he was going to steal some electronics gadget from a bigwig. There’d been no-one else available, so Coulson had recruited (read: bullied) her into the role. “Yeah. So?”

“Do you remember the dress?”

 _Oh God, the DRESS_. Barton had turned up with it an hour before the gala, saying he’d picked it up from a shop Romanoff always used. It was midnight-blue, sparkly, and there hadn’t been a great deal of it. Barton and Coulson had practically forced her into it, and the stupid heels that had come with it, made up her face and piled her hair up in an elegant arrangement of curls. She’d felt like a fraud all night, a tomboy masquerading as a princess, but she’d managed to distract the bigwig while Barton picked his pocket, so the mission was a success. “Yes, I remember the bloody dress.”

“When I was debriefing Fury, I showed him a photo of you in that dress.” Clint grinned reminiscently. “He snorted his coffee all over the table. And I know for a fact he still has that photo in the false bottom of his desk drawer. ” He winked at a dumbfounded Maria, turned around and headed back to where Jen was waiting for him.

“Has Tony provided a pilot, or are you planning to fly us?” Jen asked as they walked up the steps into the plane. It was stunningly appointed inside, all tan leather sumptuous seats and a walnut wet bar.

“Clint wouldn’t let just _anyone_ fly him,” a woman’s voice drawled, and Clint spun, his mouth dropping open.

“My God, it’s the Cavalry!”

“Clinton Francis Barton, I still haven’t forgiven you for sticking me with that nickname,” the tall, slim Asian woman said with a smile. “Mrs Barton,” she tipped her head to Jen. “I’m Melinda May. I would congratulate you but clearly you’re insane to have married this idiot, so I’ll offer my commiserations instead.” She was pulling up the stairs and closing the aeroplane’s outer door as she spoke.

Jen laughed and offered her hand for May to shake. “Please call me Jen. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You too. Call me May, everyone does.”

“How’ve you been, May?” Clint said eagerly. “I haven’t seen you in a while. You still playing pilot?”

May grimaced, fingering the S.H.I.E.L.D. badge on her jacket. “Well – I’ve been doing _some_ fieldwork. By sheer coincidence, I need to get to Hawaii today too, so I figured I’d fly you there. You’re on your own after that.”

Clint laughed, following May to the cockpit. “Seriously, I’m really glad to see you. I heard – well, I heard you’d been injured on the Helicarrier.”

“Who told you that?” May turned and gave him an odd look.

“Uh – I think it was Sitwell,” Clint tried to think back. “It was when I was concussed after the battle – I have to admit I’m not sure. I felt guilty about it because, well, you know…”

“I wasn’t on the Helicarrier, Clint. I wasn’t even in the States. I was flying Victoria Hand around Europe when all your shit went down. Damn woman wouldn’t even let me go to Frankfurt to help.”

Jen smiled, watching Clint and May banter. She remembered now where she’d heard the woman’s name; Clint had mentioned her several times when telling Jen about his past. May had been Clint’s field partner for several years; indeed, she’d been his training officer when he first joined S.H.I.E.L.D. But after a mission had gone wrong – he’d been injured out of it early on, and she’d had to go in alone and do some things that were never, ever talked about but caused Clint to nickname her The Cavalry – she’d retired from fieldwork. A couple of months later, Clint had been sent to assassinate Natasha and made a different call.

Jen settled herself comfortably into one of the plush leather seats. Clint and May would no doubt have a lot to catch up on, and she didn’t mind at all. She had a selection of new books loaded onto her StarkSlate she wanted to start reading. A click behind her caught her attention, and she looked up to see a very ordinary-looking, middle-aged man enter the main cabin through a door from the rear. Dressed in a plain black suit, he smiled at her and took a seat.

“Has Clint abandoned you already, Mrs Barton?”

“Please call me Jen,” she said again. “Another S.H.I.E.L.D. colleague?” His oh-so-ordinary façade practically screamed Men In Black. “Funny, I thought this was a StarkCorp jet.”

“Just hitching a ride,” the man smiled. “May and I left the rest of our team in Hawaii.”

“Thought I heard your voice,” Clint came back in from the cockpit. “Nice to see you alive, Phil. Jen – this is Phil Coulson. Rumours of his death have been greatly exaggerated.” He seated himself beside Jen and quirked an eyebrow at Phil. “ _Greatly_ exaggerated.”

“It was necessary, Barton. I see you’re batting well above your average,” Coulson smiled at Jen again. “What on earth is a nice girl like you doing with Trouble here?”

“You could say it’s all Loki’s fault,” Jen said, “but it might be better for me to be honest and say I’m not really all that nice.”

 Phil’s smile disappeared at the mention of Loki’s name, but he grinned again as she finished speaking. “I am very sorry I didn’t make it to your wedding. This was as close as I could manage, I’m afraid,” he gestured around the plane. The engines were spooling up and they felt the plane begin to move as May taxied it gently towards the runway. “And I’m afraid I can’t fill you in on what I’ve been doing for the last couple of months, either. But please,” he leaned forward, suddenly looking boyish and eager, “will you tell me about the Avengers Initiative? In particular, how is Captain Rogers settling in to the modern world?”

Once they were airborne and settled in at cruising altitude, May set the autopilot, propped the cockpit door open and came to sit with them as well, and Jen learned quite a bit more about Clint’s past from his two old friends. Clint was as comfortable with them as he was with Natasha, which was really saying something. The long flight went by quickly as they talked and laughed, both Coulson and May delighted by Jen and Clint’s obviously deep affection for each other.

At last, May returned to the cockpit, saying they were getting near, and the aeroplane began to descend. Jen peered out of the window, looking for something she recognised; she’d stopped over in Hawaii before on her way to the States from Australia.

“Are we landing at Honolulu?” she asked, a little puzzled. They were getting low to the ground and she remembered Oahu as being a lot more built-up than the land she was seeing pass beneath them.

“Moloka’i,” Clint replied. “I have friends here. Er – a long-ago mission involving a megalomaniac and one of the outlying islands…”

“That’s about as specific as you want to get, Barton,” Phil said with a grin.

“Yeah, yeah. You staying?”

“Nah.” The plane touched down lightly and braked to a halt on the runway. _Wow,_ Jen thought _, May was an amazing pilot. That was a_ really _smooth landing_. “Our ride’s over there.”

Clint peered out of the window and saw the big Globemaster cargo plane. “Well, it’s been good to see you. Having said that, I’m glad you don’t have any business here. I’m looking forward to a _peaceful_ honeymoon.”

Phil leaned over to shake his hand. “I know of no reason why you shouldn’t have one.” He put a card into Clint’s hand. “But if by any chance you don’t – well, here’s how to reach me.”

Clint nodded and murmured his thanks. A few minutes later, he and Jen stood on the tarmac, bags at their feet, watching the Globemaster lift off into the sky. An open jeep came screeching up beside them just as the massive plane finally vanished into the distance and a huge native Hawaiian man jumped out and enveloped Clint in a bear hug.

“Great to have you back, Hawkeye! This your wife?” he eyed the tiny Jen dubiously.

“Yes she is, and don’t flirt with her, Sammy. She’ll probably realise what a mistake she’s made and run off with you instead,” Clint joked, and Sammy let out a booming laugh and started tossing their bags in the back.

“Come on! House is all ready!”

The ‘house’ turned out to be a beautiful beachside cottage, isolated from the rest of the world. Clint told Jen he’d borrowed it for two weeks, and after that they could go wherever she wanted. The world was at their disposal.

“Though I need to make a few stops,” he said thoughtfully, opening one of his bags, “to drop these off.”

‘These’ were a stack of passports and identity documents. Jen blinked, picked a couple up, and almost died of shock when she flipped one open to find it contained her photo and a different name. “Hawk! What the _hell_?”

“You’re married to a super-spy, love,” he grinned, putting his arm around her waist. “I have a number of, shall we say, exit routes around the world in case things go wrong for me. And if you think I’d leave you behind because the paperwork wasn’t in order…”

Jen smiled and turned to put her arms around his neck. “So am I a super-spy too? Are we like Mr and Mrs Smith?”

“Well,” Clint mused, “they did have lots of _really_ explosive sex…”

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **If you haven’t watched Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. – why not? It’s a brilliant show and I freaking LOVE Melinda May. In my personal headcanon, she and Hawkeye were field partners before the Bahrain Incident, and then he teamed up with the Widow.**
> 
> **But seriously, if you haven’t watched it, or Captain America: The Winter Soldier, you may be slightly bemused by a little of what’s going on here. Don’t worry about it. Or alternatively, do worry about it and go watch! ESPECIALLY if you plan to read the sequel!**


	64. Epilogue 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprises on the honeymoon....
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Sail: AWOLNation  
> Here With Me: Dido  
> I’d Come For You: Nickelback
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters except for Jen, Jacques and their parents.

_Five months later_

Jen sighed, pressing a hand against her stomach as she watched Clint expertly pilot their boat into the small harbour. He leapt agilely to the dock and secured the catamaran swiftly before hopping back up and leaning over her.

“You sure you’re feeling all right? I thought you’d got over the seasickness by now.”

“I’ll be fine now we’re out of the chop.” Jen smiled up at him, reaching up to touch his cheek. He looked relaxed, tanned and fitter than ever; the hard lines that had marked his face since the Battle of New York finally gone. They’d spend the last few months wandering wherever their fancy took them; from Moloka’i they’d gone to Japan, then Thailand, Cambodia, India; a flight to London to check in with Jacques when he broke his leg trying to help Darcy and Jane when some bizarre Asgardian stuff went down; then some travelling in Europe. Clint had almost emptied his bag of paperwork for Jen, teaching her as they went where his safehouses and safety-deposit boxes were, how to access them, what to do if she ever couldn’t get to him.

And then a month ago Jen had decided she wanted to go home to Australia. She wasn’t yet quite ready to tell Clint that she thought she might be pregnant, because she suspected when she did that he’d lose it and insist on taking her back to the States to be safe, and she wasn’t ready to let go of having this time alone with him yet.

 _Soon_ , Jen promised herself, watching him as he gathered his wallet and jumped over the side of the boat again, heading first to the harbourmaster’s office and then to go stock up on some groceries. They’d spent the last two weeks sailing around the Great Barrier Reef and the Whitsunday Islands, and she was almost ready to share him with the rest of the world again. Once they were back on dry land she would no longer have the excuse of intermittent seasickness to explain her nausea, plus she’d started to notice changes in her body that would become obvious to him sooner rather than later.

Jen sighed and leaned back in her deckchair. Their six months was almost up, anyway. Time to go home and face reality. They’d been out of contact with the outside world entirely for the last week and she really should fire up a laptop, now that she’d have cellular reception, and check in with her folks, and with Natasha. In a little while. She closed her eyes. Just a few more minutes soaking up this lovely sun, letting the nausea subside…

A cloud shaded the sun, and she opened her eyes irritably. But it wasn’t a cloud.

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Clint returned to the yacht, cursing himself for having taken so long. But he’d spotted something on the cover of a newspaper that just shouldn’t have been there, and spent far too long gaping at the headlines in shock. _HYDRA?_ Seriously? And S.H.I.E.L.D. – what the _fuck_ had Tasha _done_? He’d grabbed all the international newspapers in the small kiosk and scanned them quickly. There were blurry photos of the Winter Soldier fighting with Cap, a sidebar article saying that Nick Fury was dead – Fury, _dead_? Impossible! He cursed himself for not taking his phone from the boat. Natasha must have been trying frantically to get in touch. On the other hand – Jen’s necklace hadn’t reacted, so maybe she hadn’t?

Clint ran all the way back to the marina, cursing himself again for having gotten so lax. He was wearing denim shorts and deck shoes and he wasn’t even armed! Leaping onto the boat, he called Jen’s name. Her chair was empty, maybe she was inside. He ducked down into the cabin, checked the side of the hull with their bed. No Jen.

She wasn’t on the boat, he concluded a moment later. _Don’t panic, don’t panic_. He went back up on deck, looking around carefully, and his eye was caught by a flash of glass.  His Starkphone, lying on the chair Jen had been resting on. He stooped to pick it up, and as he did so the screen came on.

All the breath left Clint’s body as though he’d been sucker-punched. He hit his knees on the rough wooden deck, not noticing the pain, staring at the picture on the phone he held in suddenly trembling fingers.

There were three people in the bright, high-definition image. Jen was one of them, bound, gagged, clearly unconscious, a bruise forming on the side of her head as it lolled back over the arm of the man carrying her. The metal arm of the Winter Soldier.

 _That_ would have been bad enough, his Jen in the hands of that _thing_. Clint had heard all too many horror stories of the Winter Soldier, most of them from Natasha, and because they were from Natasha he knew they were the truth, not myths or exaggerations, because the Winter Soldier was the one who had trained Natasha in the most brutal of her skills. But it was the third person on the screen his eyes were drawn to with horrified disbelief. Because the third person was _dead_. Had been dead for fifteen years. Clint had killed him, buried him, grieved for him.

His brother Barney smirked back at him from the photograph, one hand knotted into Jen’s hair as he held her face up towards the camera.

This was _not possible_. He could not be kneeling on this boat, under a sunny Australian sky, staring at the image of his beloved wife helpless in the hands of a monster and his demon of a brother. For several seconds Clint’s brain just froze up completely. And then the picture on the screen flashed off and a number appeared in its place.

_5_

The number flashed once, and then changed.

_4_

_“_ Oh, fuck!”

_3_

Clint dropped the phone and lunged to his feet.

_2_

He didn’t look back. Just dived over the open-water side of the boat, taking a deep breath as he went.

_1_

**BOOM.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you don’t want to read on to the sequel, you can just read Epilogue 2 now and make assumptions from that ;)
> 
> I’m hiding under the couch now because I don’t doubt that my loyal readers are going to be screaming and jumping up and down. Yes, it was my biggest cliffhanger yet. And yes, you’ll have to wait a while to find out what happens next.
> 
> Ooops.


	65. Epilogue 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happily ever after means something quite remarkable for our dear couple...
> 
> Soundtrack for this chapter:  
> Now Comes The Night: Rob Thomas  
> Beautiful In My Eyes: Joshua Kadison  
> Love Story: Taylor Swift
> 
> Disclaimer: Marvel own all characters in this story except for Jacques, Jen and their parents.

_Many years later_

She’d thought Hawk was sleeping until she touched him and found his skin was cold. Perhaps it was the best way to go. Just drift off to sleep one night and never wake up. For a man who’d lived over half of his long life convinced he would die in battle, it would have been the last thing he expected.

Jen dried her eyes with the corner of the sheet after a long time and picked up the phone. After she’d called her eldest great-grandson – Steven Stark, her great-grandson and Tony’s, the head of Stark Industries, current Iron Man and the one with the power to make everything happen smoothly – she lay back down beside the man she’d loved for over seventy years and laid her head on his chest.

“You better come find me soon, my Hawk,” she whispered before closing her own eyes.

 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

 

**_2137_ **

It was her first week of college, and it already sucked. Even in the twenty-second century, there were still some guys who were stupid enough to be condescending to women who wanted to study engineering. She stomped into the bar and gestured to the bartender.

“Bourbon. A double, on the rocks.” The drink was delivered, and she picked it up, taking a sip and turning around to survey the bar. Looking for somewhere quiet to sit and drink away her annoyance. Her eyes slid over the noisy group playing a game of darts, and then slid back again, snagged by she knew not what.

The broad-shouldered man turned away from collecting his darts from the board, laughing and accepting the congratulations of his friends. Something drew his gaze across the bar, and his stomach tightened in a visceral reaction as he met a pair of clear blue eyes with his own.

“Where are you going? Hey man, I want a rematch!”

“Later.” He tossed the darts on the table and walked across the room, drawn by a force he couldn’t explain. She watched him come to her as though pulled on a string, a flush appearing on her cheekbones.

“Hi.” She cast those pretty blue eyes down shyly.

“Hello.” He looked down at her. “You are _by far_ the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he said wonderingly.

Her eyes came back up, and she smiled, quirking an eyebrow at him. “You use that line on all the girls?”

 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

**_2252_ **

She was five. It was her first day at a new school, and she had no friends yet. The other girls all wanted to play with dolls (stupid babies). She ended up sitting on her own in the sandpit at recess, carefully sculpting an intricate castle.

“That’s a dumb castle.”

She looked up to see a boy, a year or so older than herself. Blue-green eyes glinted at her for a moment before he looked down, hiding them behind sandy blond eyelashes.

“It’s not dumb.”

“It needs defensive walls. And weapons. Maybe a catapult.” He hesitated, poking at the sand with his toe. “I could help, if you like.”

Wordlessly, she held out her shovel.

 

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

**_2399_ **

“Major, we’ll drop an engineer off to assist you.”

“About fucking time,” the Space Marine officer muttered. He and his team could jury-rig most equipment, but the ship’s stalled arc reaction engines were beyond their skills. They were dead in space, a sitting duck for the Kree, until help arrived.

The tiny shuttle dropped from the passing fighter-carrier docked and he stepped forward to open the airlock. A small figure in a skin-tight shipsuit entered, removing the faceplate once the engineer gained the breathable ship air.

Blue eyes met blue-green, and they both froze.

_Oh…_

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Rather to my surprise, I cried a bucket while writing the first part of this epilogue. I’ve got awfully attached to Clint and Jen. But, you see, it does turn out happily EVER after for them after all.**
> 
> **Now PLEASE, PLEASE review. This was a labour of love, writing over 100,000 words, and the only payment I get is your kind words!**
> 
> **Thank you so much to those of you who have regularly reviewed. It really does make an author’s day to know that other people are getting a kick out of this. And yes, that even applies when the story was finished a while ago. I still get alerts on my reviews.**
> 
> **There WILL be a series of one-shots in between the conclusion of _Through A Glass Darkly_ and the beginning of _A Shattered Reflection_. Subscribe to me as an author to make sure you don’t miss anything!**
> 
> **Happy reading, and thanks for sticking with me through this crazy ride! It all started with a hangover dream…**


End file.
